MIRAGE
by Heartsings
Summary: Pippin and Boromir are separated from the Fellowship by a devastating accident.  Will they be reunited with their companions?
1. Chapter 1

The Fellowship, now in the Mines of Moria, continued its journey through the terrible darkness. As Gandalf's staff provided the only source of light, the Company began to feel the effects of the Mines. The eerie shadows seemed to eat into everyone's energy like a parasite. They spoke seldom and when they did, it was only in whispers.

Pippin was exhausted. He had been following his companions deeper into the Mines for several hours now, and his strength was waning. He began to slow his pace, finding himself walking in front of the man, Boromir.

"What troubles you, little one?" Boromir asked.

Pippin looked back at the tall man walking behind him and scowled. "I am not that little and nothing is troubling me!"

"Nothing? Why is that difficult for me to believe?"

Pippin's eyes narrowed. "Maybe because you have a very small brain in that big head sitting on your shoulders!"

Boromir chuckled lightly. "You are becoming unpleasant, Pippin. Something must be amiss."

Gandalf stopped to look angrily at the hobbit and man below, making everyone behind him turn to look at the two at the end of the line. "Is something the matter?" the wizard asked.

Pippin looked up to see seven pairs of eyes watching him anxiously. "No," Pippin said in a small voice.

Boromir smiled. "Do not worry, Gandalf. Pippin and I are only having a discussion and a difference of opinion."

Gandalf nodded once, turned and continued leading the Company into a cavernous hall.

Pippin sighed loudly and looked up at his companion. "Sorry. I'm just tired. Isn't Gandalf ever going to stop?"

Before Boromir could respond, the earth beneath Pippin gave way. Boromir grabbed the Halfling's arm, but the man was pulled into the large hole for his efforts. Hobbit and man fell into the crater more than twelve feet deep. Luckily for Pippin, landing on top of Boromir cushioned his fall. He sat up, shaking the dirt from his hair. "Boromir? Boromir, where are you?"

"Underneath you," Pippin heard the Gondorian's strained voice.

Pippin quickly jumped off the man's chest, allowing Boromir to sit up. "Are you all right?" the hobbit asked in alarm.

Boromir's breathing was labored. "I will be when I can catch my breath."

"Are the both of all right?" Aragon's voice came from above. The light from Gandalf's staff finally reached the opening. Pippin could see the worried faces of his comrades.

"Pippin?" Frodo and Merry exclaimed simultaneously.

"Are the both of you all right?" Aragon repeated.

"I'm fine. Boromir broke my fall, so I'm okay," Pippin said innocently with a smile curling his lips. "I'm not sure about Boromir though."

Boromir glared at the hobbit for a moment before he spoke. "I am well," he said while trying to get to his feet. They had fallen into a hole four feet by five feet in diameter. Water had accumulated at the bottom, making the cavity wet and muddy. Pippin curiously looked about and to his amazement he saw a tunnel to their left.

Aragorn turned to the others. "I need a rope or anything that can serve as one."

The remainder of the Fellowship looked for anything that could be used as a rope. Sam came upon a dwarf with a chain wrapped around its neck. The hobbit swallowed hard as he removed the chain from the body. Moments later, he returned with the long chain, and handed it to Aragorn. "Will this do?" he asked.

Aragorn smiled at the gardener, patting him on the shoulder. "Yes, very good, Sam." He then looked down at his friends in the crater below. "Legolas and I will come down and help you up."

Pippin walked toward the mouth of the tunnel. "Look, Boromir. It's a tunnel."

Boromir closed his eyes and took a deep breath, which pained his chest. "I am not a child, Aragorn. Throw the chain down to me and I will get us out of this deadfall."

"Yes, get them out quickly before Peregrin gets into mischief," Gandalf teased.

Then, without warning, the earth shifted and began to fall around the hobbit and the Gondorian. "The earth is collapsing around us!" Boromir shouted.

Legolas grabbed Merry before the Halfling jumped into the hole with his cousin. "NO!" Merry screamed.

As the earth collapsed around Boromir, his brother Faramir flashed across his mind. For an instant he saw his younger brother before him. He whispered to the apparition. "Faramir, forgive me, brother, for I die this moment." The wall of dirt continued to unleash its deadly trap, dropping heavy mud over the soldier.

Aragorn grabbed the staff from Gandalf so that he could get a better look at what was happening to his two companions. He was losing them and there was nothing he could do to stop it! He cried out in anger and frustration, "BOROMIR! PIPPIN!"

Boromir was suffocating! He couldn't see! He was beginning to panic! Mud was covering his entire body. He knew he was going to die, but somehow he found the strength to search for Pippin. He brought his right hand out before him and blindly sought out the Halfling. "Pippin!" A moment later he felt Pippin's hand in his, guiding him into the tunnel. His face was covered with mud. He had lost his sense of direction. He had no choice but to allow the hobbit to steer him toward safety. They made it through the tunnel as the earth raced to envelop them in its deadly snare. Pippin finally reached a large room at the end of the tunnel. "Hurry, Boromir!" He pulled on Boromir's arm, but it was too late, for the angry earth caught up with the man and buried him.


	2. Chapter 2

Faramir couldn't breathe! The nightmare was killing him! Over and over he called out to his dear brother, Boromir, screaming until his throat became raw. In the nightmare, Boromir reached his hand out to him as the earth collapsed upon his golden head. Faramir felt his brother's terror; he knew Boromir was going to die! But there was nothing he could do but watch, watch in horror as his brother suffocated, and watch as the angry earth covered his beautiful face! Faramir managed to reach his hand out to Boromir, their fingertips touching for a brief moment before Boromir was ripped away and the earth buried his beloved brother alive.

"Boromir! BOROMIR!"

Faramir sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat. Finally, his lungs were able to take in air. He doubled over, and nearly vomited. He covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth until his tense muscles began to relax. His face was wet and he realized he had been weeping.

The room was deathly quiet except for the sound of Faramir's ragged breathing. Morning sunshine flooded into the bedroom through the open window. It was going to be a fine day but for him the day would be filled with dread. He sheltered his eyes with his hand; it hurt to gaze at the bright sunlight.

Denethor suddenly rushed into the room. "Faramir? What ails you?"

Faramir tried to cover his swollen eyes with his hand. "Nothing, Father."

"Do not lie to me!" Denethor snarled. "You have had one of your dreams, have you not?"

Faramir did not want to have a shouting match with his father for his head felt like it would split in half. "Yes," he said quietly.

Denethor looked down at his youngest son in disgust, but there was something else in the Steward's eyes. It was worry. The Steward of Gondor was worried.

"What did you dream?" Denethor demanded.

Faramir pleaded. "Please, Father, not now. My head feels as if it will burst."

Denethor began to shake with fury. "I will not leave this room until you make known what it is you have dreamt about! Was your dream of Boromir? I heard you speak Boromir's name! Is he in danger?"

So that was it, Denethor's distress was over his eldest son, his heir. It was painfully obvious that his youngest son's welfare was of no concern to the Steward of Gondor. Faramir should have known better. What possessed him to think that his father cared anything about him? For a brief moment, he thought maybe he should tell his father that he saw his favorite son, his successor, die in an avalanche of dirt, and watch with satisfaction as the old man fell to pieces. But, of course, he would never do that because there was no hatred or bitterness in Faramir's heart, there was only love for the man who cared so little for him.

"No, Father. The dream was not of Boromir," Faramir lied. "I dreamt I was in battle and fighting orcs. I was calling out to Boromir to help me."

Denethor closed his eyes and blew air out through his tense lips. "I see. Good then," he said with relief. "Well, you have slept late enough. It is time you see to your duties."

Denethor turned and walked out of the room in haste as Faramir fell back into bed like a rag doll. He knew a severe headache would soon follow; therefore he tried to bring the dream into focus before the waves of pain came crashing down upon him. What did it all mean? Was he being shown that Boromir's life was in peril? Or was there truth in the dream and Boromir had been swallowed by the earth and died a horrible death? If that was so, then he had failed. He had failed to save his older brother, the brother he looked up to, the brother who had always been there for him. He had not been able to give Boromir even a moment of comfort before death had snatched him away.

His father was right, he was useless, a disappointment, and he should have died at birth. Faramir curled into a fetal position. Tears rolled down his cheeks as the youngest of the Hurin family wept for his older brother.


	3. Chapter 3

"BOROMIR!" Pippin screamed. He could see Boromir's hand protruding out of the mud. Dropping to his knees, he frantically began digging the man out of the earth. Moments later he reached Boromir's face, and wiped the mud from his eyes, nose and mouth. He noticed a large gash on his forehead. Pippin brought his ear close to Boromir's nose. He was not breathing!

"Boromir! Breathe! Breathe!" Pippin began to whimper as he removed the dirt from around the man's shoulders. Pippin wiped the mud off of his left hand on his trousers, and brought it up to Boromir's parted lips. He felt nothing. Air was not finding its way into his lungs.

Pippin sobbed, nudging his friend forcefully. "Boromir, don't do this to me! You have to breathe!"

Boromir did not stir.

Pippin became angry, and slapped his companion hard across the face - still, nothing. "I'm sorry," Pippin cried as he struck Boromir once again. He finally coughed, gasped and at last took in large amounts of air into his lungs. Pippin shouted with joy as Boromir slowly opened his eyes. "Boromir! You're alive!"

Boromir looked over at the young hobbit, his green eyes looked blank and detached. Pippin pulled on his arm, but the Gondorian was too heavy for the Halfling to move.

"Help me, Boromir! I can't pull you out! You have to do it!"

Boromir instinctively pulled himself out of the dirt with his hands, dragging his body slowly along the tunnel floor.

"That's it! Just a little further," Pippin coaxed.

Boromir eventually reached the end of the tunnel and dropped to the floor of a large room, finally free of his tomb. He was soaked to the skin and covered in mud. He got on his hands and knees, and retched. There was nothing in his stomach for it had been hours since he had eaten.

While the man's stomach tried to empty itself, Pippin stroked his back. "You're going to be all right now, my friend."

Soon after, Boromir stopped heaving; he leaned back on his heels and took several deep breaths. Pippin patted his face gently. "Everything's going to be all right now, Boromir."

Boromir did not acknowledge the Halfling. He crawled toward the wall closest to them, took a shuddering breath as he sat and leaned against the surface. Suddenly the wall shot out a bar of light, which burst across the entire room. Pippin had not been aware that the room had been emitting a dim glow, but now, with Boromir's back against the surface, he was delighted to see the room radiate with light. He gasped, placed his hand against the wall, and another bar of light shot forth underneath his fingertips.

Pippin giggled. "Boromir, we have light! Oh, wouldn't Gandalf love to know about this."

Pippin looked about and found he was in the largest room he had ever seen. Huge portraits of dwarfs decorated the walls. The hobbit reached up and touched one of the paintings. Veins of light shot through the image painted on the canvas. He stepped back to admire the work of art as the veins of light burned brightly for a moment before they vanished. As the Halfling watched in wonder, a golden light on the floor caught his eye. Light flickered off a golden goblet and other small golden treasures strewn across the floor. Pippin couldn't resist; he touched the goblet, closed his eyes tightly and waited. To his relief, nothing happened. The hobbit smiled, took the goblet in his hands, and walked back to Boromir.

"Look, Boromir. Look at what I found!"

Boromir did not respond. Pippin glanced at his friend. His smile disappeared as he crouched down facing the soldier. "Boromir?"

The Gondorian, with his hands lying limply at his side, looked onward as if he had not heard the hobbit. Fear began to creep into Pippin's heart.

"Boromir, what's the matter?" Pippin asked. The Steward's heir was silent.

"What is it? Are you hurt? Tell me what's wrong! Please talk to me!"

Boromir was oblivious to the world around him. Taking the soldier's face in his small hands, Pippin forced him to look at his face. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest – what he saw sent shivers down his spine for the man's eyes were vacant and lifeless.

"No! This can't be happening! Not you, Boromir!" Pippin leaned against the warrior's chest, sobbing desperately. To the Halfling's dismay, Boromir was still unresponsive. He looked into the man's eyes once again. It broke his heart to see that Boromir, the warrior; Boromir, the heir to the stewardship of Gondor, Boromir, the man who had become his friend, had disappeared. Pippin realized the trauma to Boromir's head had somehow caused his mind to disconnect and withdraw.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Pippin said, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. He proceeded to wipe the blood and mud from Boromir's face. "I'm going to get you out of here, Boromir. Do you hear me? I'm going to get us out of here," he said firmly. He waited for a reaction from Boromir, but his words made no impression upon the injured man.

Boromir heard someone speaking, but he couldn't make any sense of the words. His head and chest hurt terribly, and he was so cold.

_What has happened? Why am I so cold? Why does my body hurt so?_

These thoughts kept spinning around in his mind. Then the sound of someone weeping broke into his confused thoughts.

_Faramir?__Is__that__you,__dear__brother?__Why__do__you__weep?__Did__I__do__something__to__upset__you?_ _Has__father__hurt__you__again?_

Immediately, an event from the past flashed through Boromir's mind. Boromir was twelve and Faramir only seven. He had been teaching his younger brother the art of sword fighting in the courtyard. Denethor watched from the sidelines as his sons tried to out maneuver each other. The boys got carried away and Boromir's wooden sword struck Faramir's knuckles, knocking the sword from the small boy's hand. Faramir burst into tears. Infuriated, Denethor stormed toward the boys, took Faramir by the arms and shook him as hard as he could.

"Never let me see you weep like a child again! Do you hear me! You are a Hurin! We do not cry like babes, ever!"

Boromir stepped between Faramir and his father. "Father, please, you're hurting him!"

"He is a disgrace!" Denethor shouted.

"No, Father, he is your son," Boromir said firmly.

"I will not have him dishonor the Hurin name by acting like a whimpering infant!"

Swallowing his tears, Faramir backed away and ran off leaving his brother to deal with his father. Moments later Boromir found him hiding in the stables.

It tore at Boromir's heart to see his precious little brother cover his eyes so that he would not see his tears. He sat beside Faramir and wrapped his arm around him. "I'm sorry, Faramir. I did not mean to hurt you," he said gently.

"I know you didn't," Faramir said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Father is right. I am a coward."

"You will never say such a thing to me again!" Boromir said angrily.

"I should have said something to him, Boromir! Instead, I ran off like a little girl! It is no wonder he hates me so!"

"He does not hate you, dear one."

"Then why does he treat me with such contempt?"

Boromir could only sigh and shake his head for he did not have an answer for his little brother.

_I do not know, dearest Faramir. But always remember that your brother loves you._

Just then, Boromir tried to speak those soothing words to Faramir but the words refused to come forth. It seemed his voice was lost. Then abruptly he heard the weeping stop. Oh, that was good. He hated when others cried, especially his brother, given that he always felt inept and unable to help him. The pressure on his chest eased off, and he thought Faramir was speaking to him once again, but unfortunately, the words were muddled; they had no meaning.

_What is happening to me, Faramir? Why is it I cannot understand you? Please, help me, brother!_

Terror ripped into Boromir's heart. A whimper nearly escaped his lips, but since it was his brother who spoke, he concentrated on the sound of his voice and the fear slowly vanished. He felt small hands touch his face. He tried to focus on his brother standing before him, tried to focus on Faramir's face, but the features were fuzzy and distorted. He tried to call out his brother's name; it simply refused to be spoken.

_Faramir, I am so weary, brother. I think I shall sleep now. _

Boromir's eyelids fluttered. He closed his eyes as his body slid sideways and dropped to the floor.

"Boromir!"

Pippin quickly placed his fingers on the man's neck. He felt a pulse. His friend's heart was still beating strong. The Halfling gave a sigh of relief, removed his coat, and placed it over Boromir's shivering shoulders. It would not cover much, but it would at least give his friend a little warmth. The man began to moan and tremble. Body heat, that's what Boromir needed!

"I'll keep you warm."

Pippin quickly laid in a fetal position with his back snuggled up to Boromir's chest. He wrapped the man's arm over his shoulders. There was nothing else he could do but wait until Boromir awakened, and then he would have to come up with some kind of a plan to get his injured friend out of this room and into the hands of those who could care for him. Oh, how he missed Frodo, Merry, and Aragorn. He never felt so alone. How was he ever going to get them out of this horrible predicament? He was just a hobbit for goodness sake! If only Aragorn was here with them. He would know what to do to help Boromir. He was a healer wasn't he? But Aragorn wasn't there, and it was up to him to get his companion safely back to the Fellowship.

"Don't worry, Boromir. I'll get us out of these mines if it's the last thing I do," Pippin said, his voice trembling.

Lulled by Boromir's steady breathing; Pippin felt his eyelids grow heavy. He tried to stay awake but sleep beckoned, and finally prevailed.

Soon after, a shadow appeared in the room. It moved slowly toward the two sleeping figures on the ground. Death, it seemed, would soon follow...


	4. Chapter 4

It had been over an hour since the remainder of the Fellowship had been attempting to rescue their companions. Legolas and Aragorn had been digging nonstop ever since the earth had collapsed while Gimli watched from above the crater, providing light for the diggers with Gandalf's staff.

Then suddenly, once again, the earth began to rumble beneath the man and the elf below. "Make haste, Aragorn, for the earth is shifting once again!" Gimli shouted.

The strong dwarf pulled Aragorn to safety, and then grabbed Legolas' hand, pulling the elf quickly out of the hole. The three members of the Fellowship watched helplessly as thick mud collapsed back into the cavity nearly filling it up again.

Aragorn slammed his fist into the dirt. "This is hopeless!" he shouted in despair.

Legolas leaned close to Aragorn and quietly said. "We must be certain, Aragorn."

"They could not have survived, Legolas! Nothing more can be done!"

"Surely, you are not suggesting that we leave without knowing for certain!" Gimli said in disbelief.

Aragorn glared at the dwarf. "It has been over an hour, Gimli! Do you think I want to leave them behind? We must accept the fate of our companions, and remember why we are here. We came to aid the ring-bearer in the destruction of the ring, and that is what we shall do!"

"They may have found another way out," Gimli suggested.

"Alas! I pray that you are right, Dwarf," Legolas said, but in his heart, he too felt that Boromir and Pippin no longer lived.

"Then we must keep searching…"

"It is no longer safe for us to remain here, Gimli! It is a miracle that we have not been discovered and I want to keep it that way. We must leave now and continue our journey through the Mines," Aragorn insisted.

Gimli hung his head, and took a quick look at the hobbits. Merry and Sam huddled around Gandalf, giving each other comfort while Frodo stood off from the others. "The hobbits may not survive losing one of their own," Gimli said sadly.

"Then we shall do everything in our power to see that they do!" Aragorn snapped.

Legolas lightly touched Aragorn's shoulder. "We are all grieving for our companions, Aragorn."

Aragorn sighed heavily. "We do not have the luxury to grieve. If we do not leave now, we put all of our lives in grave danger."

Gimli nodded. "Yes, of course."

Aragorn went up to the wizard and the Halfings, swallowed hard, and took a moment before he spoke. "There is nothing more we can do here, Gandalf. Pippin and Boromir are lost."

"We can't stop! We have to keep trying to find them!" Merry shouted.

"Dearest, Merry," Gandalf said gently, embracing the hobbit. "It has been too long. I fear Aragorn's words ring true. Pippin and Boromir are gone," the wizard said sadly.

"I don't believe it! I won't! You can't leave them in there! Please, don't leave Pippin and Boromir in that hole!" Merry screamed, burying his face in his hands. Gandalf closed his eyes, cuddling the hobbit closer to him.

Frodo turned his back to the others and walked off.

"Mr. Frodo? Are you all right?" Sam asked the retreating hobbit.

"Leave it to me," Aragorn suggested to Sam, and moved to Frodo's side.

The hobbit stopped and looked up at Aragorn with tears streaming down his face. The haunted look in the hobbit's eyes pierced the man's heart like a sword. A sob caught in Aragorn's throat. "I am sorry, Frodo, but there is nothing else we can do."

Frodo glanced toward the hole. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't allowed Pippin to come with us…"

"Do not do this, Frodo. You cannot blame yourself for what happened. It was an unforeseeable accident." Aragorn quickly interjected.

"I should have returned to the Shire after I delivered the ring to Rivendell. Then Pippin would have returned with me."

"If anyone is to blame, it is I," Gandalf said as he stood behind them. As they turned to face the wizard, Gandalf embraced Frodo and held him tightly. "Yes, Frodo, I am to blame for bringing this misfortune upon you and your family. For that, I am truly sorry."

"Are you sure there's nothing else we can do, Aragorn?" Frodo asked hesitantly.

"No. We shouldn't have stayed this long. We must hurry before we are discovered."

Merry, overhearing their words moved toward the cavity, jumped in, and began to dig vigorously.

"Merry, what are you doing?" Sam screamed.

Again the earth moved and began to fall upon Merry's head. "Help me!" Merry cried.

Gimli jumped into the hole, landing beside the hobbit. As he grabbed Merry and threw him out of the crater, he began to sink into the thick mud.

"Take my hand, Dwarf!" Legolas shouted. Gimli reached out to clutch Legolas' hand, but the mud pulled the dwarf deeper into the muddy cavity. In an instant, Aragorn was beside the elf, and together they pulled the dwarf out of the hole before the earth could claim another victim.

Legolas slapped Gimli hard on the back nearly knocking the dwarf over. "Well done, Dwarf," he said and smiled sweetly at Gimli's murderous glare.

"Are you all right? Please tell me that you're all right!" Frodo asked Merry.

"We can't leave them, Frodo! Please, we have to find another way. We have to find Pippin and Boromir!" Merry pleaded.

Frodo reached out to Merry and embraced him. "I'm so sorry, Merry, but Aragorn is right. They couldn't still be alive. We have to go."

Merry jerked away at Frodo's shocking words. "No! I don't believe you! I don't believe any of you!" he shouted as he stepped back. "I will never forgive you for this, Frodo! NEVER!"

Frodo's heart broke as Merry stormed away, for today he lost two of the most important people in his life.


	5. Chapter 5

A small orc sniffed the air as it advanced toward the hobbit and man lying on the floor. It quietly signaled its companion to follow. The larger orc obeyed and came up behind its partner with its weapon held high and ready to strike those on the floor. The smaller orc smiled wickedly, bringing its face close to Pippin's. The decaying odor from its mouth brought Pippin out of his slumber. Opening his eyes, Pippin realized what was happening, and screamed. The orc grabbed the hobbit by the arm, jerking him up to his feet.

"BOROMIR!"

"Look, at what we found," the smaller orc said, laughing hysterically.

"What is it?" the larger orc asked.

"Ahh, I don't know, but I'm sure it tastes good!"

The larger orc moved closer to Boromir and lifted its weapon, ready to bring it down upon the man's head. He kicked him in the chest, but Boromir did not stir.

"This one smells of death," the larger orc said.

"Good! Then all we have to do is chop him up into little pieces. We'll come back for him later. Now this little thing is going to make a nice treat since its fresh."

"BOROMIR!" Pippin screamed.

"Don't bother, little thing, your friend will not come to your aid." The beast placed its fingers on each side of Pippin's mouth, squeezing the hobbit's cheeks as hard as it could, causing Pippin to cry out in pain. "Keep quiet, or I will cut your tongue out first before I bite your head off!" the creature said threateningly.

Pippin suddenly scratched the orc's face, and kicked the creature in the shins as hard as he could. The smaller orc roared in pain. It brought its deformed hand back, and struck Pippin hard across the face, hurling the hobbit to the floor. Pippin tried to crawl away, the orc, however, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and jerked him to his feet. He proceeded to slam him against the wall.

"You touch me again, you despicable little creature, and I will kill and eat you right now!"

Pippin continued to struggle against the orc's grasp. "BOROMIR!"

Someone screamed! Boromir heard someone calling out to him. _Faramir?__Is__that__you,__brother?_

"This thing must be really stupid. It refuses to listen," the orc said, slapping Pippin once again. The hobbit's nose began to bleed.

"Why don't you just kill it and get it over with. I'm hungry," the larger orc said irritably.

Its partner laughed. "I agree. Why should we share this prize with the others…but first," the smaller orc said as it slapped Pippin once again. The creature then grabbed Pippin's hair with its left hand, and held him against the wall with its right forearm to his throat. "I'm just going to torture it for a while before I tear it apart and eat it!"

"BOROMIR!" Pippin screamed once again.

_Faramir? What is wrong, brother? Are you in danger?_

Another memory raced through Boromir's mind. The Steward's heir, with five-year old Faramir alongside him, walked their horses into the stables after a long day's ride. The boys, chatting excitedly about their day's adventures, did not hear a rabid dog approaching the entrance to the stables. As Boromir unsaddled his mare, the crazed animal barked ferociously, startling the brothers.

"Get behind me!" shouted Boromir to Faramir.

Frozen with fear, Faramir was unable to move. The rabid dog continued to move forward, spraying saliva about as it snarled and barked viciously at the boys. Boromir's mare suddenly reared in terror, knocking Boromir to the ground. He watched helplessly as the deranged animal approached his younger brother.

"BOROMIR!" Faramir screamed as the mad dog staggered toward him.

Boromir's eyes shot open. He remained still, listening to the sounds around him. His vision was still impaired, but he could sense someone standing before him. There was a foul stench in the room. He remembered the offensive smell, instinctively knowing that it belonged to the vile creatures, the orcs.

The larger orc laughed, clapping its hands as it took pleasure in the Halfling's beating. The beast was unaware of its imminent death as Boromir silently stood to his full height behind it.

The smaller orc grabbed Pippin by the throat, bringing its face mere inches from the Halfling. "Now, I'm going to rip your heart out little thing. What do you think of that?" Seeing the fear in Pippin's eyes, the hideous beast laughed hysterically, bringing its hand back to strike the hobbit once again.

Without warning, the orc's laughter was cut short. Its head flew off its shoulders, rolling to the other side of the room. The beast's hands twitched, but its fingers held tightly to Pippin as the creature's torso fell to the floor, bringing the hobbit down upon its body. Writhing out of the orc's grasp, Pippin looked up to see Boromir standing before him, clutching the hilt of his sword with both hands.

"Boromir!" Pippin shrieked, tears streaming down his face. The young hobbit ran to his friend and wrapped his arms around the man's waist.

Denethor's eldest looked confused, but then he slowly embraced the hobbit's head.

_It is all right, Faramir. You are safe for I have killed the beasts and they will no longer hurt you. Now, now, do not cry. _

Boromir's vision cleared for a brief moment and he looked down to the face smiling up at him. It was not Faramir whom he embraced but a small individual he did not recognize. He noticed the little one's nose was bleeding. As Boromir tried to speak soothing words to the hobbit, his mind again became trapped within the fog, and the words faded into the shadows.

"You saved my life," Pippin said, looking up into Boromir's face.

Boromir did not respond, but tenderly wiped the blood from the hobbit's nose.

The Halfling's smile broadened, his face beaming with pride. He gave Boromir another hug, and then broke the embrace. "We have to get out of here before more of those, those, things come!" he said.

Pippin stepped over the larger orc's torso, its head no longer attached to its body, as he went to investigate the hallway in which the orcs had entered. "Stay here, Boromir. I'll be right back," Pippin said. The Halfling stepped into the corridor and walked into another room similar to the one where he had left his companion.

Not long after, Boromir heard the distant footsteps of an army of orcs approaching from every direction. With sword in hand, Boromir whirled around in search of the enemy. Danger approached! He must protect – he must protect - he closed his eyes in hopeless frustration! He could not remember!

_Faramir!__I__am__afraid!__Help__me,__brother!_ _What__is__happening__to__me_? _I__cannot__remember__what__I__must__do!_

Boromir began to cough; the sharp pain shooting through his chest brought him to his knees. He felt a warm sticky liquid in his mouth. As the son of Gondor wiped the blood from his lips, he waited for the footsteps to arrive.


	6. Chapter 6

Pippin placed his hand against the wall of the room he had just discovered. He was thankful as a vein of light burst from within the walls, illuminating the entire room. Searching the massive chamber, Pippin came upon a narrow hall, which led into another tunnel. Hope began to blossom in his heart; this passageway could be their way out. Maybe, if luck stayed with them, they would come upon the Fellowship soon.

Pippin hurried back to Boromir. When he returned, it broke the hobbit's heart to find the man on his knees, weak and struggling to breathe. Boromir leaned on his sword, which he had driven through the dirt floor, using it to support himself and keep his body from collapsing to the ground.

Pippin rushed to his companion's side, taking the man's face in his hands. "Oh, Boromir. I'm so sorry you've been hurt," he said. He then heard the footfall of many creatures coming in their direction. "Boromir, we must leave, now!"

Boromir did not attempt to move. The man looked confused and simply gazed at the Halfling standing before him.

"Boromir, let go of your sword!" Pippin said sternly. He pried the sword from Boromir's hands and returned the weapon to its sheath. He then took the Gondorian's hand and pulled. "Boromir, please, we have to get out of here! You have to get on your feet! More of those things are coming! They're going to kill us if they catch us!"

The Steward's eldest looked into the hobbit's pleading eyes. The face was still a blur, but he heard the urgency in the voice.

"Please, Boromir! Get on your feet!" Pippin exclaimed, pulling on the soldier's arm once again.

Eventually Pippin's pleas reached Boromir's mind and he got his feet under him and allowed the young hobbit to lead him out of the room.

Pippin held onto Boromir's hand while touching the tunnel wall with the other. Light shot out from underneath his fingers, illuminating the passageway before them. From time to time, the two companions had to stop as Boromir was assaulted by a racking cough. Pippin nearly burst into tears upon seeing the blood on Boromir's lips, but he couldn't fall apart now and he certainly couldn't allow them to stop! They were being hunted! They had no other choice but to continue their flight through the labyrinthine passageway! Finally, after a tortuous journey, the two companions came upon a junction that branched out to other tunnels that went in three directions – one straight ahead, one to the left and one to the right.

"Which one should we take, Boromir?" Pippin asked knowing full well that Boromir would not answer. He felt his stomach cramp, as fear took a hold of his guts and twisted them into knots. It didn't take him long to make a decision - to take the tunnel on the right side of the intersection. "All right, we'll take this one," he said, leading his partner into the tunnel. Unfortunately, four miles deeper into the earth the tunnel came to a dead end into a mineshaft. It seemed the Dwarfs of the Mines of Moria had decided to stop excavating further into the ground. In the mineshaft, wooden scaffolding hung above the tunnel floor supported by sturdy posts of timber.

"No, no, no!" Pippin exclaimed, tears streaming down his face. He sat heavily on the ground, brought his knees up against his chest, and covered his head with his arms. This was madness! He couldn't do this alone! He needed Boromir's help! But, sadly, Boromir could not aid him and it was up to him to solve this problem on his own. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to his feet. If he was going to get them out of this alive, he had to stop acting like a child and take action.

Pippin looked over at Boromir who stood gazing at the wall at the far end of the tunnel. Pippin wondered what had caught his companion's attention. He followed the man's stare to discover the wall was overlaid with numerous large gemstones. A large diamond protruding from the center of the wall caught Pippin's eye and he moved closer to admire it. "What's this?"

Pippin could not yield to temptation. He touched the diamond lightly. As the hobbit admired the precious stone, hundreds of orcs spilled into the tunnel like ravenous rats, blocking the entrance and their only way of escape. They were trapped! Pippin whirled around and accidently pulled the diamond out of the wall. He ran to Boromir, holding onto the man's arm as fear began to eat away at his heart.

"Boromir, what are we going to do?" Pippin asked nearly in tears.

The orcs shrieked, gnashing their teeth as they approached their prey. But unbeknownst to all, cracks in the wall behind Boromir and Pippin began to appear as the vile creatures advanced on their victims. Then without warning, the earth began to shake violently, and then stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

"No, not again," Pippin whispered, watching the scaffolding sway dangerously above them. Suddenly large pieces of the scaffolding fell upon the orc's heads making the creatures scream in terror and fury.

Pippin's eyes widened when he heard the wall behind them creak loudly. He slowly turned to look, noticing water flowing from the hole where the diamond had been removed. The orcs stopped advancing. The creatures became deathly quiet, sensing something was terribly wrong. The only sounds inside the tunnel were that of Pippin's rapid breathing and water dripping to the ground.

"Boromir…"

In that instance, the wall collapsed and a violent flow of water exploded into the tunnel. Water crashed against the tunnel's occupants, hurling them to the ground as water flooded the passageway.

Pippin went under for a third time. Gripping Boromir's arm, he fought to stay above the raging waters. Boromir, with his arm wrapped around one of the wooden posts, struggled to hold on to the hobbit, but the current was becoming extremely violent. The man's strength was nearly spent, his hands nearly frozen by the icy waters. Pippin went under again, only this time, the water ripped the Halfling from Boromir's grip.

Pippin heard water lapping against a rock. He pried his eyes open and saw the cloudless sky above him. As he lay on his back with the sun warming his chilled body, he realized he was somewhere outside of the Mines. Moving his head to one side, he noticed he was lying on a bank of a large lake.

"Boromir?" Pippin called out, his voice merely a whisper.

Then he heard voices. Yes! Pippin heard human voices and they were nearby!

_Merry? Frodo? Sam? I'm here! _

The voices came closer.

"What is that?" a child's voice asked. "Is it alive?"

A boy's face appeared over Pippin. The boy looked over at someone beside him. "Get father, now!"

Pippin tried to sit up, but the boy gently pushed him back. "Be still, friend. My father will be here soon."

Dark spots lined the edges of Pippin's vision. He fought to stay conscious but he must have fainted for an instant later, strong arms lifted him off the ground.

_Boromir? Is that you?_

Pippin opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of a bearded face; the long hair and beard were the color of copper. The man's gentle blue eyes observed the hobbit with concern. "You are safe now, friend." With that, Pippin closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

The bearded man took Pippin to his home and placed the Halfling on a soft warm bed; his wet and muddy clothes were then removed. Gentle hands lifted his head and a cup with a bittersweet liquid was pressed to his lips. The hobbit drank thirstily.

"Sleep now, friend," a woman's voice said. "You will be well by the morn."

A soft warm blanket was placed over him. Pippin slept peacefully with a sweet smile on his face.

The next morning Pippin awoke to find a pair of eyes watching him. He sat up with a start. A young girl shrieked and ran out of the room. Vertigo whirled up at him, making the room spin. He groaned and tightly held on to the edges of the bed. He laid back down slowly, his eyes searching around the room. He was alone.

Moments later a woman with a kindly face walked into the room and up to his bed. "Greetings, friend. It makes my heart joyous to see you awake."

"Where am I?" Pippen asked. "Where's Boromir?"

The woman frowned. "I am sorry, but no other was found with you."

"What? No! Please, you must find my friend. He's hurt!" Pippin said, pleading.

"I will make haste and let my mate, Grealle, know there is another."

Pippin tried to sit up. "I have to look for Boromir."

The woman pushed Pippin gently back down against the over-sized pillows. "Be still, friend. You are still weakened. Grealle shall find your friend," the woman said bringing a wooden bowl to the hobbit's lips. "Now drink this."

"What is it?" Pippin asked curiously.

"It is the life source of a berry the land provides. It is called mirventha. It will aid in healing and strengthening your body."

The woman helped Pippin bring his head up to drink. He took a small sip and to his surprise, the berry juice was delicious. The woman smiled as the hobbit emptied the bowl.

"Now rest, friend," the woman said.

The Halfling was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Pippin slept deeply through the night until mid-morning of the next day. The sounds of someone humming in another room, children playing outside his window, and birds chirping aroused the hobbit out of his slumber. Sunlight filtered into the room as a light breeze fluttered across his face. Pippin smiled and yawned, stretched, and slowly opened his eyes. Whatever was in the berry juice had done wonders for him. His body felt strong and revitalized.

Suddenly, Pippin remembered what had happened to Boromir. He sat bolt upright, sprinted out of bed, and ran out of the room. He came upon the woman preparing breakfast in a large kitchen. She glanced at him as he came to a halt at the doorway.

"Good! You are awake. Sit down and I will prepare you a plate," the woman said, smiling.

"Has Boromir been found?"

The woman's smile faded quickly. "Grealle and our neighbors are still searching around the lake. I am sorry, but they have searched high and wide, and still have not come upon your friend."

Pippin nearly toppled over. The woman rushed to his side, helping him to the large wooden table and sat him on the wooden bench. "Are you feeling unwell?"

Pippin sat heavily on the bench, placed his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. This couldn't be happening! After all they had been through, Boromir was lost! Pippin began to weep.

"My heart is saddened by your sorrow," the woman said, placing a bowl before him. "Drink." Pippin shook his head. "It is only water," the woman said.

The giggling children burst through the kitchen door. They saw the hobbit sitting at the table and froze in their tracks, staring at their guest with inquisitive blue eyes.

"Do not stare Vivaecia, Carreod." The woman gently warned.

"Why is he crying, mother?" Vivaecia innocently asked.

"His friend is still lost, dearest. Now go and wash for our meal."

The children walked up to Pippin, each placing a hand on his shoulders. "We are saddened by your pain," Carreod said. He then took his sister's hand, leading her out of the room.

The woman went to Pippin and sat beside him, touching his arm lightly. "Grealle will do everything possible to find your companion. Do not give up hope."

The woman's words pierced Pippin's soul like hot daggers. It was his fault after all! Boromir was lost because of him! If he had made the right choices, if he had just left things well enough alone, he might have had Boromir back with the Fellowship by now. Gandalf and Aragorn would know how to treat Boromir's injuries. Sometimes Pippin hated himself – hated his ignorance and inexperience! He moaned in anguish.

"Are you in pain?" the woman asked.

Tormented and grief-stricken, Pippin couldn't find his voice to answer.

"I must ask your forgiveness, for I have not introduced myself. I am Elainthea," Elainthea said, squeezing Pippin's arm gently.

Pippin looked up at her. "My name's Pippin," he said between sobs, his voice a mere whisper. "I can't stay here. I have to look for Boromir."

"And you shall. If your friend is still lost by the end of this day, then you shall go with Grealle in the morn. Your friend will be in need of you, Pippin. It is important that you rest and rebuild your strength."

Pippin's heart ached for Boromir, and for the cousins he loved so much. He wondered where Frodo, Merry and Sam were, if they believed him dead, and if they had survived the Mines of Moria and gone on to Mordor without him. He looked away from Elainthea, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He had to believe that Boromir would be found alive and he had to have faith they would rejoin the Fellowship before long. Pippin held on to that spark of hope. He had to believe that everything would be all right or he would be lost forever.


	7. Chapter 7

As the day was coming to an end, Pippin sat on the steps outside Elainthea's house waiting anxiously for Grealle to return. Their house was located in the center of the village of Heartstone. The homes in the village were made of stone slabs; some of the buildings were round, and others were rectangular and all of the homes in Heartstone faced toward the center of the village square.

Pippin spent the day by himself. Elainthea and the children kept their distance after she explained to them that Pippin's heart was wounded, and that he needed time to be alone. He was grateful to her for that. Pippin wanted to know more about Grealle and his family, but only after Boromir was found. For now he was glad that he was alone with his thoughts and his feelings of loss.

Not long after, Pippin caught sight of Grealle walking toward him. He was a mountain of a man, towering over his two companions. Grealle shook his neighbors' hands, and bid them goodnight as Pippin ran to meet him.

"Any sign of Boromir?" Pippin asked anxiously.

"He is not found as of yet, friend. We only found dead or dying orcs. The repulsive creatures have polluted our lake, but none of the abominations live now," Grealle said, shaking his head in disgust.

Pippin's heart sank, and a sob caught in his throat.

"Do not be troubled, friend. We will go again in the morn," Grealle said quickly.

"Can't we go now?" Pippin asked.

"It is not safe to be out when the day is done. Come first light, we shall search once again."

"I'm coming with you!"

Grealle smiled. "Of course you are."

"Thank you," Pippin said. "Thank you for helping me."

Grealle sighed and placed his huge hand on Pippin's shoulder. "You are most welcome. Now, I am anxious to learn how you and those creatures came to be in our lake."

"I promise to tell you everything...," Pippin said and stopped in mid-sentence, remembering the ring. "Well, almost everything. But please, not until we find Boromir."

"Then I shall wait until the proper time," Grealle responded, leading Pippin into the house.

Sleep eluded Pippin that night. How could he think of sleep when his injured friend was still missing? As dawn approached, painting the sky with brilliant shades of red, purple and gold, he dressed quickly and hurried outside to wait for Grealle. While watching the spectacular sunrise, he bowed his head, and said a silent prayer for Boromir.

Grealle's neighbors, Brasen and Stelle, silently stood beside Pippin. The hobbit sensed their presence and looked up to see the two men smiling down at him. "It is a fine new day, friend," Brasen said.

Pippin gave Brasen a wan smile. He noticed the two men carried small axes tucked into their belts. Moments later Grealle stepped out of his house munching on an apple and a block of cheese. Pippin saw that Grealle also carried an axe in his belt, and he wondered if the tools were being used as weapons or for another grisly purpose.

The huge man handed Pippin a small bundle wrapped in a thin cloth. "Thank you." he said and took the food, but he didn't have much of an appetite, which was very unusual for the hobbit since his stomach was normally a bottomless pit.

Grealle studied the Halfling. "Are you ready, friend? Will you be able to maintain?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll keep up." Pippin said earnestly.

Grealle smiled, and then led his companions toward the lake. Half hour later the four men arrived at the edge of the water. Pippin's heart sank; the lake was massive. How would they ever find Boromir?

"Pippin and I will search the southern bank. Brasen, you and Stelle search the north side. We shall meet here at midday," Grealle said.

"May we have success," Brasen responded, and led Stelle to the north end of the lake.

"What do you call this lake?" Pippin asked as he followed Grealle.

"It has been named the Lake of Moria. But, that is a long tale best told over ale and a pipe," Grealle said, smiling.

Pippin would have been delighted at the mere thought of a mug and a smoke, but he couldn't think of enjoying anything until they found Boromir.

They searched the southern bank carefully for over an hour. Pippin was able to keep up with Grealle but only because he ran behind the huge man. Finally out of breath, Pippin came to a halt, his hands resting on his thighs. As he stood erect, he saw something glittering in the water. It was Boromir's sword!

"Grealle!" Pippin shouted.

He ran into the water, took the heavy sword in his hands, and searched the surroundings with his eyes. Nearly a hundred feet ahead, he spotted a figure virtually hidden underneath a clump of shrubs.

"There! It's Boromir!" Pippin yelled.

Grealle glanced in the direction Pippin was pointing. He caught sight of a man halfway submerged in the water, and the big man ran toward the bushes as fast as he could.

Pippin reached Boromir as Grealle was pulling the injured man out of the lake. He held Boromir's hand as Grealle laid the Gondorian gently down on the sandy shore. Boromir's skin was deathly pale and his lips had a bluish hue. Grealle placed his hands on each side of the man's neck.

After what seemed like an eternity, Grealle looked sadly at Pippin. "His heart does not beat, Pippin. I am sorry, but your friend is dead."

"NO!" Pippin screamed. "He can't be dead! Please, do something, Grealle!"

Grealle closed his eyes and placed his hands on Boromir's neck once again. "Wait!" Grealle exclaimed. "I think I felt…" he said, stopping in mid-sentence. He pressed his ear against Boromir's chest. "Yes! I was mistaken!" It is a heartbeat! Slow and very faint, but it is there!"

Pippin stood with his mouth agape, his brain unable to comprehend. "What?"

"Pippin, he lives!"

"He's alive?" Pippin asked in disbelief.

"Yes!" Grealle said as he heaved Boromir over his shoulder. "I shall make haste, and give aid to your companion at home. Follow the edge of the lake and go back to where we began our search. Please leave a sign for Brasen and Stelle, and then come as quickly as you can." With that said, Grealle left Pippin and rushed back to Heartstone.

At the edge of the water where the search had begun that morning, Pippin wrote the word "found" using rocks he found on the lake's rocky bank, and formed an arrow pointing toward Heartstone. Then with Boromir's sword in hand, he ran back to Grealle's house as fast as his small legs would carry him.

Grealle burst into the house bearing Boromir in his arms. Elainthea, startled by his abrupt entrance, dropped a pot of mirventha juice on the floor.

"Elainthea, we have found him! He's been in the lake and is near death. We need stones heated quickly!" Grealle said.

"Carreod, I need more mirventha! And, Vivaecia, I shall need mearthien," Elainthea said as she handed each of the children a pot.

As the children hurried out, Elainthea placed a large pot over the fire in the hearth, and filled it with round stones from a wooden box beside the fireplace.

Grealle laid Boromir on a bed and stripped him of his wet clothes. The man's body was ice cold to the touch, and he didn't appear to be breathing. Grealle examined Boromir carefully, and found he had several injuries. His right arm was broken and his ribcage was spotted with bruising on the left side. He had blood in his mouth, a sign that a broken rib had punctured his lung. His legs were badly scraped and bruised. There was also a deep gash on Boromir's forehead, but Grealle's main concern was the man's body temperature. It was so low Boromir appeared dead. Grealle had to raise the internal heat of his body or he would not survive. He wrapped Boromir in a thick woolen blanket while he waited for the rocks to be heated.

Elainthea brought the first batch of stones into the room. They wrapped the rocks with soft pieces of cloth, placing them on each side of Boromir's neck, under his armpits, on each side of his pelvis, under his knees and against the bottom of his feet. The next task was setting his arm. Grealle expertly jerked the arm until the bone went back into place. Boromir did not even flinch as Grealle wrapped the arm in a splint.

As Elainthea placed two more blankets over Boromir, Pippin burst into the room, and rushed up to the bed. "How is he?" he asked breathlessly.

"He still lives," Grealle said. "But we must raise his body's heat or he will certainly perish." He turned to Elainthea. "I shall aid Vivaecia."

Pippin's eyes widened in shock as Grealle rushed out of the room. "Where is he going?"

"To find mearthien," Elainthea turned to leave. "I will put more stones to heat," she said and stepped out of the room before Pippin could ask what mearthien was.

The hobbit looked at his companion's deathly pale face. His lower lip trembled and tears streamed down his face. It pained him to see his hero look so frail. He embraced Boromir's neck; his body was so cold. "Please don't die, Boromir. Don't leave me here all alone…please."


	8. Chapter 8

Grealle soon returned with a small ceramic pot filled with dark thick mud. He proceeded to spread the wet earth over Boromir's injuries.

"Why are you putting mud on him?" Pippin asked, shocked at the idea of Grealle putting mud on Boromir's body.

"It is not mud, it is mearthien," Grealle said. "This rare earth is used for healing."

"But it's mud," Pippin exclaimed incredulously.

"No, Pippin, it is mearthien. This special earth aids in healing the body."

Tears began to well up in Pippin's eyes. "Grealle, will Boromir live?"

"I do not know. He is gravely injured. But we have mirventha and mearthien to aid us," Grealle said as he gently patted Pippin's shoulder. "I also believe that if your companion's desire to survive is strong, he shall live to continue the journey with you."

It was late in into the night as Pippin dipped a cloth into a wooden bowl, and then wringing the excess water he brushed it gently over Boromir's face in an effort to cool the fever that raged through his body. Boromir moaned, whispering Faramir's name time and again. It had been several hours since Grealle had successfully raised Boromir's body temperature, but now, hw was fighting a life-threatening infection which had settled in his lungs.

Elainthea entered the sick room with a tray of mirventha and mearthien. She set it on the bedside table, and placed her hand on Boromir's brow.

"The fever still burns within him," she said, shaking her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then removed her hand as if she had been burned. "Something is wrong!"

"What? What is it?" Pippin asked worriedly.

"Something evil has touched him."

Pippin became alarmed. "Something evil? What do you mean?"

Elainthea shook her head. "I do not know. I have never felt it before in anyone. I shall speak to Grealle about this."

"What can we do?" Pippin asked, terrified that Sauron had done something horrible to Boromir.

"At present, only that which we are already doing," Elainthea said softly. "Stay close, Pippin. He needs to feel your presence."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with him until he's well," Pippin said, gently wiping Boromir's face.

"He is fortunate to have such a devoted friend," Elainthea said, smiling.

"I'm the one who's lucky. He saved my life."

"And now you are saving his."

Pippin tried to smile but failed miserably. Boromir shifted under the covers, mumbling another name as his head tossed weakly from side to side. Pippin brought his ear close to his lips. The hobbit shivered upon hearing Sauron's name.

During the night Boromir's fever worsened. He thrashed violently while Grealle wiped down his sweat-soaked body. "Frodo! The ring!"

Grealle tried to coax Boromir to drink mirventha but the delirious man pushed it away. "Pippin, the earth collapses around us!" he cried out.

Pippin brushed the hair back from Boromir's forehead. "You're all right, Boromir. Can you hear me? You're safe now." As the hobbit wiped the man's face, Boromir's eyes opened. "Boromir?"

He did not respond, he was not seeing anything but what his feverish mind was revealing to him. "NO!" Boromir screamed. "FARAMIR! HELP ME!" Weak as he was, he raised himself up, and while trapped in his fevered dream, he reached out to his brother. "Faramir? Where are you brother? I need you!"

As Grealle eased Boromir back down, the injured man grabbed Grealle's arm. "The eye speaks to me! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!"

Grealle held Boromir in his arms until he finally relaxed. He then gently eased him back down onto the bed, lifted his head and brought a cup to his lips. "Drink, friend," Grealle said gently.

Pippin's face beamed as Boromir at last drank a cupful of the healing juice. "He's drinking it!"

Grealle smiled at the hobbit. "He has fought taking mirventha until now. It is a good sign."

Pippin stroked Boromir's face. "You're going to be all right, my friend. You're going to be all right," Pippin said while applying more mearthien to Boromir's injuries.

Boromir's fever finally broke the following day. Pippin had not left his side through the entire ordeal. The hobbit was exhausted, but he was determined not to leave Boromir alone until his friend awakened.

Pippin tucked the covers tighter around Boromir's shoulders as Grealle entered the room and offered him a cup of tea. "I have brought you a cup of tea."

"Thank you," Pippin said as he took the cup from Grealle.

"You must rest Pippin. You will not aid your friend by becoming ill yourself."

Pippin smiled weakly. "I'm all right. I'm not that tired, but I am hungry."

Grealle chuckled. "Ah, hunger. Now that is a very good sign. I shall prepare you a plate," Grealle said and stepped out of the room. When he returned he found Pippin sleeping on the bed beside Boromir, his head tucked into the crook of the man's arm. Grealle grinned, covered Pippin with a blanket, and blew the candle out on the bedside table.

The following evening Boromir still slept. Pippin was becoming concerned that his friend would never awaken. "Why won't he wake up Grealle? It's been so long."

"When mirventha and mearthien restore the body, they cause a deep sleep. It could be many hours yet before Boromir awakens. At present, I am concerned for you, Pippin. You are in much need of sleep."

Boromir stirred under the blankets bringing the hobbit's attention back to his friend. "I'll sleep when I know he's going to be all right," Pippin said stubbornly.

Pippin snored softy; his head lay on Boromir's thigh. A sigh escaped his lips for someone was stroking his curly head. Then suddenly his eyes shot open, and he turned to look up at Boromir.

"Good morning, little one," Boromir said, smiling at the Halfling.

Pippin shouted with joy. "You know me?"

Boromir frowned slightly. "Is there a reason why I should not?"

Pippin shrieked, took a hold of Boromir's face, forcing the man to look at him. "Tell me! Who am I? Where am I from? What were we doing? No, don't mention that, just answer the other questions," he said excitedly.

Boromir's frown deepened. "What is this about? Why do you ask such questions?"

"Tell me!" Pippin insisted.

"You are Peregrin Took, cousin to Frodo Baggins and Merry Brandybuck of the Shire."

As Pippin squealed with glee, Grealle and Elainthea rushed into the room. "Pippin, what has happened?" Grealle asked with concern.

Pippin ran to Grealle and wrapped his arms around the huge man's leg. He looked up at Grealle with a dazzling smile, his face beaming. "Boromir's awake and he knows me!"


	9. Chapter 9

Grealle and Elainthea smiled at one another. Grealle moved toward the bed, placed his huge hand on Boromir's shoulder. "It makes our hearts joyous to see that you are healing, Lord Boromir."

Boromir was baffled for he did not who this man was or what he was talking about. "Forgive my confusion, but I do not understand what has happened."

"Then I shall leave it to Pippin to explain it to you," Grealle smiled, patting Boromir's shoulder. He then followed Elainthea out of the room.

Boromir looked into the smiling face of the Halfling. "Tell me little one, tell me everything."

Pippin began to pace as he disclosed their harrowing escape in the Mines. Boromir tried to follow Pippin's story, but his eyelids began to flutter and his eyes involuntarily closed. When Pippin heard the Steward's son snoring softly, he tucked the covers around his shoulders, kissed him on the forehead, and blew the candle out as he stepped out of the room.

Grealle and his family were seated around the huge table having their evening meal.

"Pippin, we are joyful that you join us for our meal," Elainthea said as she prepared another plate.

Carreod, sitting on the bench beside his father, moved over so that Pippin could sit next to the huge man. Grealle smiled proudly at his son. "How is Lord Boromir?" Grealle asked.

"He fell asleep while I was telling him what happened to us. Goodness! I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse!" Pippin exclaimed.

"I am sorry, Pippin, but we do not have any horse meat," Elainthea said regretfully.

"No, I didn't mean I wanted to eat a horse, just that I was hungry enough to eat…," Pippin stopped speaking after he saw the smirk on Elainthea's face.

Laughter erupted in the room.

Soft moonlight filtered into Boromir's room from the open window opposite his bed. A noise awakened the Gondorian. He opened his eyes and shivered. Something was terribly wrong. He glanced toward the window; a small black mass was perched on the window ledge.

Pippin had eaten meagerly the past several days, and he was now famished. "Ah," he asked timidly. "Is there any more of that wonderful stew left?"

"There is enough. It makes my heart joyous to see you have such a hearty appetite," Elainthea said, and served Pippin another portion.

"Pippin, may I ask you a question?" Carreod asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Father and I were having a discussion, and we were wondering if perhaps you are…a hobbit?"

"Yes, I am," Pippin said proudly.

"We had heard about your kind, but have never had the pleasure of meeting a hobbit until now," Grealle said.

Pippin smiled. He ate another mouthful and burped. "Excuse me," he said, and burped again, causing everyone to laugh heartily.

The black mass moved slowly from the window ledge, down the wall and landed softly on the floor. It stopped for a moment, and then it seemed to float toward the bed. Boromir panicked, and tried calling out to Grealle and Pippin, but fear took possession of his throat and strangled his voice.

Suddenly the black mass was sitting at the foot of his bed! What evil was this? Was it an evil creature sent by Sauron to kill him as he slept in his bed?

"Lord Boromir should be well enough to leave in a few days," Grealle said as he poured Pippin another mug of ale.

Pippin nodded, and swallowed. "It'll be so good to continue on our quest."

"A quest?" Carreod asked excitedly. "Tell us about your quest!"

"Yes, tell us about your quest," Vivaecia repeated.

"Now, children," Elainthea warned. "Do not be rude."

Pippin turned to the children. "Well, I can tell you a little about our journey. I'll leave the scary parts out."

"No, no, don't!" Carreod exclaimed. "I love hearing about scary things."

"Children," Elainthea warned again.

The black mass slithered slowly toward Boromir's face. He was frozen with fear! He tried to move his arms, but they remained frozen at his sides. He tried to cry out, but nothing came out of his mouth!

"As the rocket exploded, a dragon flew across the night sky. It was the best party the Shire has ever seen," Pippin said proudly.

Suddenly a harrowing scream came from Boromir's room. Elainthea gathered the children around her as Grealle and Pippin rushed into Boromir's room.

The Halfling ran to the bed. "Boromir? What's the matter?"

Grealle quickly lit the candles beside the bed. They found Boromir unconscious, and sitting on his chest was the household cat, Mica.

"What's happened? What's wrong with Boromir?" Pippin asked Grealle in despair.

"I do not know, Pippin," Grealle said, taking the dark hairy cat in his arms.

Pippin patted Boromir's cheek. "Boromir? Boromir, wake up."

Boromir's eyelids fluttered, and then his eyes shot open and he bolted upright. "Something evil is this room!"

"What is it? What did you see? Was it orcs?" Pippin asked.

"I know not! Where is my sword?" Boromir shouted and tried getting out of bed.

Grealle gently pushed the distraught man back onto the bed. "Lord Boromir, our cat Mica was on your person. Is she what you saw?"

Boromir pulled himself up. "WHAT?" he asked incredulously. "Are you saying I cannot tell the difference between an evil creature and a cat?"

"Maybe you were dreaming," Pippin added hesitantly.

Grealle looked nervously around the room. "Lord Boromir, I see nothing else in the room."

"You insult me, sir! I tell you there was, there was, something evil in here! I will not be accused of fabricating stories!"

"Lord Boromir, I was not accusing you of...! I ask your forgiveness! I will make haste and search outside!" Grealle said, rushing out of the room.

"Boromir, whatever it was, it's gone now. You're all right," said Pippin, gently easing Boromir back down on the bed.

"An evil presence was in this room! I am not mistaken!" Boromir exclaimed, more to convince himself than the hobbit.

"I believe you. It's gone now. You must get some rest."

"I am not a child, Peregrin! I do not appreciate being treated as one!" Boromir said angrily. He threw the covers aside, got out of bed and crumpled to the floor.

Boromir awoke and realized he was back in bed, and dozing in the chair beside him was the Halfling. He smiled, took the hobbit's hand in his and gently squeezed the small hand. Pippin stirred and glanced toward his friend.

"Boromir," Pippin said, rushing to Boromir's side. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am so tired, little one. I have never felt so spent. What has happened to...?" Boromir drifted off for a moment.

The hairs on the back of Pippin's neck raised as a shiver ran down his spine. "Boromir? Do you remember what happened?"

Boromir forced his eyes open. "Of course I do," he said rather annoyed. "I am not the fool you believe me to be, Peregrin. I am only asking what happened to the...damn cat!"

The sound of Pippin's giggle forced the man to look at the Halfling's smiling face. "I assume you are enjoying my moment of weakness?" he asked with fake anger.

Pippin cleared his throat and tried to stifle another giggle. "I'm sorry."

"I presume the evil presence was the family's cat?"

Pippin fought to keep a straight face. "Grealle searched throughout the village and didn't find any signs of anything unusual. The villagers have posted sentries around the perimeter of the village, just in case."

"Tis a good thing. We have encountered orcs have we not? The village must be protected against..." Boromir drifted off to sleep.

The Steward's heir slept peacefully for the next two days, and when he awoke, he felt refreshed and his mind was clear and alert. Boromir had met death face to face once again and had won. His lips curled into a smile. Since there was little pain in his body, he knew he would be up and about in a matter of a few days, and he and Pippin would soon be able to follow the Fellowship to Mordor. Grealle interrupted his thoughts as his host stepped quietly into the room.

The huge man's face reddened when he saw a pair of green eyes watching him. "Lord Boromir, it is good to see you are awake."

"Thank you. Of my companion?"

"He does not know it, but he is sleeping in my bed. He did not even stir when I carried and laid him down," Grealle said with a chuckle.

"Thank you for tending to my injuries, Grealle. And, I must apologize for my ill-mannered behavior earlier. I was not myself."

"There is no need for apologies, Lord Boromir. You will be well enough to continue on your journey soon."

"What of orcs? Have any been sited?"

"None have been seen, but we have been preparing for battle. We know they will be coming soon for we destroyed the beasts we found in the lake. I believe it is just a matter of time."

"I am sorry that we have brought danger to your home."

"It was not of your doing."

With Grealle's help Boromir sat up in bed. He then placed his hand on the man's large shoulder. "Know this, Grealle, if evil comes to your village, I will stand beside you in battle."


	10. Chapter 10

Boromir continued to heal. By the following day he was strong enough to sit at the table with Pippin, Grealle and several villagers who had come to discuss the possibility of an impending battle with orcs, if the creatures were to find their way to the village. It was decided that the Captain of Gondor's army, along with Pippin, would lead the villagers in defending Heartstone against the abominations. The chances of the villagers surviving this battle had now increased a hundredfold.

By the end of the meeting, Boromir felt the villagers were better prepared. And to Boromir's surprise, Pippin had come up with several brilliant ideas. The hobbit had matured since they had been separated from the Fellowship, and he was proud to have the Halfling as his Second in Command.

That afternoon, Boromir insisted he needed to strengthen his injured arm; and so he took Pippin to a field and practiced swordplay with wooden sticks. His arm was stiff and sore, but he ignored the pain. As he hacked with his wooden sword, Pippin easily knocked it out of his hand.

"This is disgraceful, Pippin! How am I to fight, if I cannot even keep a hold of my weapon?" Boromir shouted angrily.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Your arm is a little weak, but it continues to heal. It'll be strong again soon."

"I need my arm strong, now! The orcs will not wait for it to heal."

"Boromir, all I know is that whenever those...monsters...come, you'll be ready, my captain," Pippin said and bowed.

Boromir chuckled. "Peregrin Took, always the optimist."

"No, Peregrin Took, the believer!" Pippin smiled and then advanced again.

Boromir was unprepared for the hobbit's attack. Pippin moved quickly toward the soldier and kicked him hard in the shins.

Boromir cried out in pain. "And why have you kicked me, you little horror?"

Pippin smiled smugly. "To remind you to always expect the unexpected."

Later that evening, scouts returned with news of a small army of orcs heading toward the village. To everyone's dismay, there would be a battle in Heartstone. The men quickly gathered in the village square so that Boromir could review their line of attack once again.

"Gentlemen, the time has come. The orcs shall be here by morning. Does anyone have any questions about what they will be doing?"

The men shifted and looked at one another, but no one spoke. They were as ready as they would ever be.

Elainthea suddenly stepped forward and addressed the men. She turned to look at Grealle as she spoke. "The women and I have decided. If the abominations are not destroyed, we will not allow our children to be touched by those beasts."

Grealle was stunned. "Elainthea, what are you saying?"

"You know what I am saying, my husband," Elainthea said with tears streaming down her face. She abruptly turned and left.

Grealle was left speechless as tears began to well up in his eyes. Pippin came to his side and placed his small hand on the man's arm.

"We won't let that happen, Grealle. We'll kill them all."

Morning finally arrived; the rising sun creating the most brilliant sunrise Pippin had ever seen. He waited atop the roof of Grealle's house with Carreod and eight of the older boys from the village. The Halfling and Carreod sat in the center of the rooftop while a group of boys were positioned at each corner of the roof. Sitting beside Pippin were at least twenty ceramic pots filled with oil. The two groups of boys had pots beside them as well. A shield made of heavy metal rested beside each group. The shield was long enough to protect the boys who were to stand behind it as they hurled the jars of oil over the roof. Pippin looked across the village square. He could see more groups of boys awaiting the orc army. He knew his plan would work; it just had to.

It had been decided that Carreod would be in charge of the shield while Pippin would fling the pots over the rooftop onto the orc army below.

Carreod, sitting across from Pippin with his legs crossed, fidgeted with the rag wick in one of the pots. "Are you afraid, Pippin?"

Pippin snickered. "Of course not." He then swallowed hard. "Well, maybe just a little."

Carreod gave him a weak smile and nodded. A moment later they heard the footfall of the approaching orc army. A look of terror crossed Carreod's face.

"Are you ready?" Pippin whispered. Carreod managed to nod and took the shield in his hand.

"Don't do anything until I tell you, all right?" Pippin said.

Carroed nodded again and got to his knees. Pippin crawled to the other boys and made sure they were also ready.

"Now remember, wait for my signal. Don't light the wicks until then."

The boys nodded and Pippin returned to Carreod's side. The orc army marched into the village, which now looked deserted. The creatures shrieked and pounded their feet in frustration.

Pippin watched as the orcs filled the village square. "NOW!" he shouted.

Fire bombs exploded into the midst of the orc army. Many of the gruesome creatures burst into flames. Carreod quickly shielded Pippin as the orcs counterattacked with arrows.

With a group of men armed with swords and axes, Boromir charged from the north end of the village. Several orcs immediately fell to his sword.

At the southern end of the village, Grealle attacked with his small army.

More firebombs exploded into the heart of the orc army from the village rooftops. Many of the orcs were dying in the flames.

Pippin turned to Carreod. "We're out of firebombs! It's time to go!"

Pippin signaled the boys across the village square. One of the boys signaled back with a wave of his arm. Pippin watched as the boys left their posts before he descended with his group into Grealle's home.

Boromir and his men continued to slash at the hideous beasts. His arm became alarmingly weak and his strength was waning.

Pippin waited until the other groups of boys came to Grealle's door. Once all the boys had gathered there they followed him to the large stone storehouse located behind the village.

Carreod pounded on the heavy door. "Mother, it's Carreod. Let us in!"

The door opened slowly and Pippin and the boys were allowed in. Six elderly men stood back and placed their weapons down as the hobbit and the boys hurried inside. It broke Pippin's heart to see the frightened faces of the women and children.

Elainthea stepped forward. "What is happening?" She asked Pippin anxiously.

"The men are fighting bravely." Pippin answered.

"As we knew they would," she said proudly.

"I have to go and be with my captain," Pippin said and turned to Carreod and the other boys. "You've done well. Your fathers will be proud of you. Now you must stay here and protect your families."

Carroed nodded and took up a sword as Pippin hurried out the door.

Boromir was becoming weaker as his strength was nearly spent. An orc nearly thrust it's sword into his chest. He would be dead if it had not been for the man beside him who took the deadly blow for him.

"NO!" Boromir screamed and decapitated the creature responsible for the man's death. Somehow, deep within him, the Steward's heir found the strength and the power to continue the fight.

Meanwhile, Grealle's small army continued to advance. Grealle's red hair was covered with black blood. Bodies of both men and orcs lay strewn about the village square. The orc army screamed in terror as they realized they had no means of escape.

Pippin sneaked back into the square and found Boromir. As Pippin moved toward his friend a huge orc stood before him. The hobbit looked up slowly into the hideous face. The orc smiled and raised its weapon high in the air, ready to bring it down on the Halfling. The hobbit squeezed his eyes shut and rammed his head into the creature's groin. The creature cried out in pain, but its cry was cut short as Boromir's sword ripped through its chest.

"What are you doing here?" Boromir asked Pippin angrily. "I told you to stay and protect the women and children!"

"My place is here, fighting beside you! Now shut up and find me a weapon I can use!"

A smile nearly broke on Boromir's lips but it died away as an orc's axe sliced at him from behind. He managed to evade the deadly blow but found he couldn't bring his sword up to protect himself. Suddenly the orc screamed and turned its back to him. Boromir spotted a dagger protruding from the creature's buttocks. Pippin ran underneath the orc's legs and came to rest at Boromir's feet. The orc turned quickly only to find the man's sword driven deep into its heart.

Pippin stood slowly beside his captain. "Boromir, look!"

The man and hobbit looked about the village square and realized there were no other orcs left alive. Boromir looked down to the hobbit's smiling face; then his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees. He vaguely remembered strong arms lifting him to his feet, or the shouts from the villagers as they celebrated their victory, or the image of a man with flaming red hair splattered with black blood smiling and speaking to him. He fought to clear his vision but his strength was gone and he finally succumbed to the darkness.

In the days that followed, the villagers took the bodies of the orcs and buried them several miles from the village. Boromir had suggested that they be buried instead of burned. He felt their burning flesh would warn others that the villagers had survived the attack.

Boromir's health continued to improve and the day came when he and Pippin had to leave Heartstone. The villagers and their families filled the village square as they came to bid them fairwell.

Grealle, with tears in his eyes, presented Pippin with a small axe. "This is for you, Master Pippin. It is not much but we give it with our appreciation for what you have done for our village."

"It's beautiful, Grealle. Thank you." Pippin said softly.

Grealle then addressed Boromir. "Lord Boromir, we thank you. Our village would have been lost if it had not been for your leadership. Master Pippin said you had lost your shield in the Mines of Moria. This is our gift to you," Grealle said, fighting to keep his voice under control.

Boromir took the round shield from Grealle. "Thank you, Grealle. It looks very similar to the one I had. I shall treasure it always."

"We shall never forget what you have done for us." Grealle patted Pippin's shoulder and clasped Boromir's arm.

The villagers then parted and lightly touched the man and hobbit as they walked out of the village on their way to Mordor.


	11. Chapter 11

Pippin stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and looked back once again at Heartstone nestled in the valley below. He was missing Grealle and his family already, but he was also anxious to be reunited with Merry, Sam, Frodo, and the rest of the Fellowship. Aragorn and Gandalf, how he missed them and he knew Boromir yearned to see them as well. The hobbit watched Boromir walking slowly up the mountain they had been climbing for the past two hours. It seemed a lifetime ago since the earth had caved in and trapped them inside the Mines of Moria. The terrible accident had separated them from their companions. In such a short time, Boromir had survived the devastating mishap in the Mines, had nearly drowned in the Lake of Moria, and had led the villagers of Heartstone into victory against an army of orcs. Boromir's body was not completely healed but the proud man was not one to admit that he was unwell. Pippin knew he tired easily and had to force Gondor's captain to rest, much to the man's frustration.

The two companions had been travelling for a good part of the day. Pippin was exhausted and famished. "I'm hungry, Boromir. When are we stopping for our meal?"

Boromir looked back at the tiny figure following him and smiled. "We shall eat once we've reached the top of the mountain. Can you wait until then?"

"I guess I'll have to," Pippin said, sounding rather annoyed.

Boromir chuckled lightly. "You are becoming unpleasant once again, Pippin. Something must be amiss."

Pippin shuddered. Boromir had said the very same words before disaster had struck in the Mines and he tried to put that thought out of his mind. Within the hour they finally reached the top of the mountain, which leveled off into a small clearing. Boromir led the way to a large oak tree growing beside a stream.

"This looks like the perfect place to eat and rest," Pippin said, smiling.

Boromir laid down his pack underneath the tree. "Indeed."

"I'll fry a few sausages and potatoes, and then we can have some of Elainthea's sweet cakes."

Boromir only nodded and let out a sigh as he sat and rested his back against the wide tree trunk. Pippin looked at his companion with worry. His friend looked pale and weary. The battle with the orcs had taken its toll. He busied himself preparing their meal while Boromir slept. The man had fallen asleep where he sat, his head resting on his chest. A half hour later the meal was ready. He hated to awaken Boromir, but he needed to eat in order to keep up his strength.

Pippin shook Boromir lightly. He awoke with a start. "What is it? Orcs?"

"No, Boromir. It's time to eat," responded Pippin, handing Boromir his plate.

Boromir shook his head slightly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the palms of his hands. He took the plate and sat it on his lap. "You've outdone yourself, Pippin. This looks like a feast fit for a king."

Pippin took a huge bite of his sausage; a smile lighting up his face. "And it tastes good too, if I do say so myself."

Boromir chuckled as he stuffed the delicious meat into his mouth. "And humility is something unknown to you."

* * *

The beast sniffed the air and caught the odor of cooked sausages, but there was another smell the creature had not detected before on the mountain. The massive animal sniffed the breeze once again; the wind carried the scent of human flesh. The animal whined and waited anxiously for its mate and the rest of the pack to join him. Within moments the creature's family arrived and stood alongside their leader. They could smell the humans as well. Excited at the prospect of having food in their bellies, the beasts ran around their leader with great enthusiasm. It had been such a long time since they had had any human flesh. The leader waited for the pack to settle down before it led them toward their next meal.

* * *

Boromir ate the last piece of his sweet cake and began to pack up their bags.

"What are you doing?" Pippin asked.

"There are at least two hours of daylight left, Pippin. We should not waste them."

"We are not going anywhere, Boromir," Pippin said firmly, his arms crossed in front of him. Before Boromir could open his mouth to respond, he continued. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted and a couple of hours will not make that much difference. I think we should spend the night here, and get as much rest as we can. We can always leave early in the morning and make up the time."

Boromir mulled over Pippin's suggestion for a moment and then nodded. "You are being wise, little one. We shall do as you suggest."

With that said, Boromir took his bedroll out of his pack and lay down to rest, his head resting on his hands. Pippin washed the dishes in the stream, and repacked their supplies. After he finished his chores, the hobbit laid out his bedroll, placed more firewood in the fire and lit the pipe Grealle had given him.

"Boromir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we'll find them?" Pippin asked as he sat closer to the fire.

"Yes, of course I do."

"But what if they didn't make it out of the Mines? What if something terrible happened to them?"

"Nay, you forget, Pippin, Gandalf and Aragorn are with the Fellowship. I assure you they made it out of the Mines of Moria and they are on their way to Mordor. I cannot speculate how far ahead of us they must be, but if we persevere and nothing happens to hinder our journey, I believe we will reach them soon."

Pippin inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to exit through his nose. "Thank you my friend. I needed to hear that." A long moment passed before Pippin again spoke. "Boromir?"

"Yes, little one?"

"I promise not to tell." Pippin said innocently.

Puzzled, Boromir rolled over on his side and got an elbow under him. "What are you talking about?"

"I promise I won't tell anyone about…the cat."

The look of shock on Boromir's face was priceless. Pippin burst out laughing.

"You little horror!" Boromir exclaimed. "I should flog you for that!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist," Pippin laughed heartily. He rolled backward onto his back and kicked his legs in the air.

Boromir tried to look angry but found Pippin's giggles infectious. He, too, roared with laughter.

* * *

The pack remained hidden in the thick undergrowth, watching the man and hobbit rolling in laughter. It wouldn't be long before they would have enough meat to last them for several days.


	12. Chapter 12

Pippin's stomach muscles ached, but he felt so much better for it. Laughter was what he and Boromir had needed, a wonderful release from the pain and suffering they had endured the past several days. The Halfling wiped the tears from his eyes and sighed heavily as he sat once again beside the fire.

Boromir sat up and held onto Pippin's shoulder. "Thank you, little one."

"For what?"

"For being such a good friend. Because of you, my world has been a brighter place. For that, I am truly grateful."

"And, I'm flattered that the Steward's heir, the Captain of Gondor's Army…my hero…"

Boromir chuckled. "Enough! You little horror!"

"I'm grateful you consider me a friend, Boromir," Pippin said, smiling.

Boromir returned the hobbits smile, nodding his head. "Now, I shall take the first watch. I'll wake you in four hours."

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"I know you're still recovering, and how tired you've been. I'm worried about you. I think we should stay here another day so you can rest and get stronger," Pippin said.

"Peregrin Took, stop being such a bloody mother hen!" Boromir said harshly.

Pippin, hurt by Boromir's harsh words, lowered his head and fought back the tears.

Boromir smiled, squeezing Pippin's shoulder a little harder. "My friend, I was trying to be witty, but obviously I have not the talent. I am so sorry if I have hurt your feelings." Boromir looked up at the night sky, exhaled noisily, and then looked down at his small companion. "Thank you for your concern, little one, but your worry is unwarranted. My body is healing, yes, and I promise you, I am well enough to continue our journey to Mordor. Do you believe me?"

Pippin looked up at the man but didn't respond.

"Do you believe me?" Boromir asked again.

"Yes, I believe you're getting better, but….."

"Then our discussion is over," Boromir interrupted. "I shall awaken you in four hours."

"All right," Pippin said, shaking his head slightly for he knew he was not going to win this argument with the stubborn Gondorian. "Good night, dear friend," he said, yawning.

"Have pleasant dreams, little one."

It seemed to Pippin that he had just closed his eyes for a mere second before Boromir awakened him.

The man stood before him, handing him a cup of tea. "I have made very strong tea. Sleep will certainly elude you the rest of this night."

Pippin yawned, stretched lazily and finally sat up. He took the steaming cup of tea, warming his hands around the wooden mug before taking a long drink. "Hmmm, thank you. Just what I needed."

"Be sure to awaken me before dawn, Pippin. I want to get as much distance behind us before the heat of the day requires us to stop and rest."

"I will."

Boromir lay down on his bedroll and was instantly asleep. Pippin watched his companion for a long while. At last Boromir was getting the rest he desperately needed. The hobbit thought he might just let his friend sleep longer than four hours before they headed out. He had agreed to awaken Boromir before dawn, but what difference would another two hours make anyway? They would be rested and they could make up the distance in a shorter period of time. Pippin fed the fire another log, wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and drank more of his tea.

Suddenly he felt a shiver run up his spine. Something in the darkness made him feel uneasy; he sensed they were being watched. The Halfling stood, looked about but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He smiled; how silly of him, of course the creatures of the mountain were watching them. He shook his head, brushed the thought from his mind, and scolded himself for being so childish.

Two hours passed without incident. As Pippin gazed into the fire his eyes became heavy. Fighting sleep, he decided to brew more tea, making sure it was stronger than what he'd had earlier. As he poured water into the pot, he heard a twig break in the darkness beyond the campfire. He swallowed hard, standing ever so slowly. He was not going to panic, and awaken Boromir if it was just an animal roaming the outskirts of their camp. He would keep his wits about him and wait. Pippin waited for several long moments, and when he didn't hear or see anything moving about in the darkness, he took a deep breath and knelt beside the fire pit.

As Pippin poured tea into the pot he caught a glimpse of something dark moving toward him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Wolves! He stood abruptly, finding himself face to face with the leader of the pack. Startled by the hobbit's sudden movement, the animal stopped in its tracks, growled fiercely, and displayed to the hobbit its long fangs. Pippin stood frozen, unable to call out to Boromir. The Halfling could see out of the corner of his eye; there were at least six other wolves approaching the camp from different directions.

The wolf growled again, taking a step closer toward the young hobbit. Finally finding his voice, Pippin screamed at the top of his lungs. "BOROMIR!"

Boromir awakened with a start. Before he knew what was happening, he had his sword in his hand and was standing in a fighting stance. The man was shocked to see the predicament Pippin was in.

"Pippin, back away slowly," Boromir said in a calm, low voice.

Pippin swallowed hard, moved back, but suddenly lost his footing as he stepped back onto a rock that turned under him, toppling him backward. The wolf went in for the kill but Boromir was quicker. The wolf received a deep wound in its shoulder for its efforts. The injured animal pulled back for a moment but continued to snarl fiercely.

Without warning the leader's mate crept up behind Boromir and attacked, throwing the man to the ground as it jumped on the his back.

"NO!" Pippin screamed. He grabbed the axe Grealle had given him and brought it down on the wolf's back as the animal tried to sink its teeth into the back of Boromir's neck. The creature cried out in pain and viciously snapped at Pippin, throwing the hobbit to the ground. Boromir rolled over, swung his sword with all his might, cutting the wolf's head from its torso.

Pippin quickly rolled onto his stomach, and at that moment a wolf leapt onto his back. Before the animal could do any harm, the hobbit heard a sickening crunch. The wolf, with its back broken, fell dead beside the Halfling. As Pippin raised his head, he witnessed another wolf catapulted over his head. The large animal smashed into a large boulder, its broken body tumbled to the ground in a heap. Dust and dirt obscured his view, and all he could see of his rescuer was a golden blur as it vanished into the night. Pippin suddenly felt arms lift him off the ground, placing him on the lower branches of the oak tree.

"Climb as high as you can and stay there!" shouted Boromir.

"But Boromir, there are still more of them left! I can help!"

"Do not argue with me, Pippin…CLIMB!"

Pippin climbed up the oak tree to safety as the remaining wolves advanced on his friend below.


	13. Chapter 13

Pippin tried to get a better look of what was happening below him, but the branches and leaves were obscuring his view. It was during times like this that he hated being small! Boromir was in danger, and there was nothing he could do to help! On his hands and knees, he crawled further out along the branch. From his vantage point he could see everything that was happening beneath him.

Boromir could almost read the wolf's thoughts as the beast looked at the flames in the campfire. The beast had not advanced, but stood defiantly, facing Boromir and revealing its long fangs to the man. The animal's eyes seemed to glow in the firelight as it continued to glare at the warrior. The wolf then quickly turned its body and began digging up the ground with its hind legs, intending to extinguish the flames. Boromir would soon be plunged into darkness, making it nearly impossible to defend himself. The remaining wolves positioned themselves on each side of the soldier, waiting for a signal from their leader.

"Boromir, the fire! They're going to attack you in the dark!" shouted Pippin.

"I am well aware of what they plan to do, little one."

Boromir brought his sword up, shouted a battle cry as he ran toward the leader. Then he unexpectedly came to a halt, turned and sprinted toward the lone wolf to his left. The animal was caught off guard. It backed away from Boromir in hopes of avoiding the blow, but the man thrust his sword deep into its heart. As Boromir turned to face the three remaining wolves, the animals attacked all at once.

To Pippin's horror, a strong gust of wind extinguished the last flame. Total blackness enveloped them all like a shroud. "BOROMIR!"

Pippin could hear Boromir fighting for his life. As the wolves snarled and bit viciously, he imagined his friend being torn apart by the frightening beasts. The Halfling could not take it any longer. He scrambled down the tree, and as his feet touched the ground, the sounds of the struggle abruptly stopped. He stood frozen, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Boromir?"

Boromir did not respond.

"Boromir, please answer me!" pleaded Pippin.

Again, he heard nothing.

Pippin rushed to the pit, fanned the remaining embers and reignited the fire. He grabbed a shirt from his pack, wrapping it around a small branch. Lighting the cloth, the hobbit brought the torch high above his head, but neither Boromir nor the wolves were anywhere to be found. He set out in search of his friend, and moments later he came across Boromir lying underneath the body of a dead wolf, his sword protruding through the animal's back. The leader of the pack and its subordinate lay dead beside the man; their bodies appeared to have been trampled to death. It seemed the phantom rescuer had given aid once again, and then mysteriously disappeared into the night.

"Boromir!" Pippin cried. The Halfling then proceeded to push the dead animal off his companion, but the body, heavy in death, would not budge. Frustrated and angry; Pippin screamed and began kicking the dead animal repeatedly.

"If you are attempting to slay the beast with your feet, it will be for naught. I believe it is already dead," Boromir said in a strained voice.

Pippin cried out and dropped to his knees beside Boromir's head. "My friend, you're alive! Are you hurt?"

"I know not."

Pippin tried once again to roll the dead animal off the Gondorian. "I can't move the wolf without your help! Please, you must help me!"

Boromir took a deep breath, rolled his body while pushing the animal off with his hands. His entire body was covered in blood. Pippin's stomach threatened to be sick, but he did not dare show his weakness in front of his hero. He tried to examine Boromir, but the man gently pushed him away.

"Can you stand?" Pippin asked gently.

Without answering, Boromir sat up slowly then got his feet under him. Pippin helped steady him as he removed his sword from the wolf's body. He took Boromir's hand and guided him back to camp. As they arrived, a shiver ran up Pippin's spine. Their camp was in shambles, the carcasses of the other members of the pack made him realize how closely they had come to death's door.

"We must leave immediately. The smell of death will bring other predators to us," Boromir said, gathering up their supplies.

"But, Boromir, your clothes are covered in blood," said Pippin. "I have to see how badly you've been hurt."

Boromir looked down at his clothes, and then continued as if he had not heard the hobbit. "We will follow the stream for a few miles, and then we can stop and rest."

Pippin did not push the issue, but he was extremely concerned for Boromir. He gathered his things, and then followed the man upstream until he could no longer go on. Pippin set up camp while Boromir removed his clothes and washed his body in the stream. When he was done, he wrapped himself in a blanket and sat by the fire.

"Drink this," Pippin said, handing Boromir a mug.

Boromir looked into the cup before drinking. "Mirventha? I will not drink this, Pippin. I will sleep for days."

"You will drink it, " Pippin said firmly. "You've been through a horrible ordeal."

"It was nothing. I have been through much worse!" Boromir shot back.

Pippin stood with his hands at his hips. "Stop being so stubborn! I've only given you a small amount. You'll be awake in a couple of hours. Now, stop arguing with me, and drink it!"

Boromir looked back into the cup, his frown deepening.

"Drink it, Boromir," Pippin insisted.

Feeling somewhat like a child being scolded by his father, Boromir followed Pippin's orders and reluctantly drank the berry juice. It did not take long for the healing juice to take effect. Boromir was snoring softly shortly thereafter, giving Pippin the opportunity to examine his injuries. There were deep scratches around his neck and upper back, and bites to his arms and hands. There were no broken bones or internal injuries that Pippin could see; overall Boromir's wounds were minor. The Halfling applied mearthien to the wounds and covered Boromir with blankets. Satisfied his friend would sleep soundly through to the next day; Pippin filled his pipe with pipe-weed, got his cup of tea, and continued his watch.

* * *

Boromir heard music, or was it someone singing? As he pried his eyes open, he looked about and by the position of the sun realized it was late afternoon. He shook his head in frustration. But his anger soon melted away after he observed Pippin bending over the campfire, preparing a meal and singing a joyful tune. The hobbit had washed his clothes, hanging them on tree branches around their camp.

Pippin glanced over at Boromir. "Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" he asked cheerfully.

Boromir sat up and glared at the Halfling. "I shall never believe a word you say, ever again, Peregrin Took!"

"I didn't lie to you, I just…exaggerated, a little," Pippin said, giggling.

Boromir's eyes narrowed in fake anger.

"Look, you can scold me later, but right now, you're going to enjoy this magnificent meal I've been preparing for hours. Are you hungry?" Pippin asked.

Boromir did not give it a moment's thought. "I'm famished."

"Would you rather lecture me, or eat?" Pippin asked as he held out a bowl of soup to the man.

Boromir did not hesitate, taking the bowl being offered. "I shall reprimand you later," he said as he ate a spoonful of soup and smiled. "Hmmm, this is wonderful. What have you put in it?"

Pippin filled his own bowl, sat beside Boromir, and happily explained how he had made the vegetable soup with ingredients he had found in the nearby woods.

The creature watched them through the thick foliage. Satisfied they were safe; it turned and trotted deeper into the woods.


	14. Chapter 14

After their delightful meal, Boromir did not have the heart to chastise Pippin. Since daylight was almost gone anyway, he decided to rest for the remainder of the day, and set out early the next morning. Because their ordeal with the wolves had cost them a full day's travel, they would have to make up some of the time lost. Pippin promised not to hinder their progress, assuring the man he would keep up no matter what. Boromir would make sure of it too, even if it meant carrying Pippin on his shoulders. As the sky began to darken, the two companions sat around the campfire drinking a cup of tea.

Pippin lit his pipe then turned to the Gondorian. "Boromir, last night, when you were fighting the wolves, did you happen to see anything strange?"

"Strange? What do you mean?"

"You'll probably think I'm being foolish," Pippin said.

"You can be frivolous at times, little one, but never foolish. Go on, tell me what it is that concerns you."

"Well you see," Pippin began. "When the wolves attacked, and I was on the ground, a wolf jumped on my back. Something or someone broke its back and the wolf fell dead beside me. As I happened to look up, another wolf flew over my head. It was thrown against a rock, and it fell to the ground, dead. Also, the two wolves beside you looked like they had been crushed to death." Pippin paused for a moment, and then continued. "After the wolves were killed, I saw something. I just caught a glimpse of it as it disappeared into the trees. I have no idea what it was, but I remember a flash of gold. The…thing…was gold, Boromir. Are you sure you didn't see or hear anything?"

"Nay, I did not. It was dark, Pippin, and I was focused entirely on the beasts and my survival."

"Yes, of course you were," Pippin said, nodding.

"But, now that I've had time to reflect, I, too, have wondered how the other members of the pack died. Well, whoever or whatever it is will hopefully reveal itself to us, when he...it, feels it is safe to do so," Boromir said.

"I do hope he does. I want to thank him for saving us."

Boromir smiled and ruffled Pippin's hair. "Perhaps it is watching us at this very moment."

Pippin stood and looked about. "Do you really think so?" he asked, and then turned to look at Boromir. "You don't seem worried."

"Whatever it is, it apparently means us no harm. It saved our lives, remember?"

Pippin chuckled. "You're right, of course." He stood beside Boromir, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. He then looked out into the forest and called out. "We want to thank you for helping us last night! We'd like you to join us for a cup of tea!"

Boromir whispered. "But what if it is not a person, it might not like tea."

Pippin nodded, stepped forward, and called out again. "But if you don't drink tea, just come and let us thank you!"

Pippin turned to Boromir who nodded his approval. The hobbit and man waited for several moments for a reply, but none came.

"It could be our mysterious friend has left," Boromir said, patting Pippin's shoulder.

"Or, maybe it's just shy."

Boromir smiled. "Ah, it is possible. It made sure it wasn't seen when it rescued us."

Later that evening, after taking the first watch, Pippin called out another invitation to their rescuer, but once again, there was no response. Determined to learn who or what had given them aid, he laid in his bedroll mulling over ways of bringing the strange being out into the open. But he was extremely tired, and since nothing came to mind, he thought he would start again in the morning after a good night's rest. Moments later, the Halfling was sleeping soundly.

* * *

Frodo, Merry and Sam, along with the other members of the Fellowship, ran for their lives. A formless figure wreathed in fire raced after them across a stone bridge. Gandalf turned to face the fiery creature, bringing his staff high above his head.

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf shouted to the blazing monster.

The old wizard smashed his staff into the stone, cracking the bridge at the beast's feet. The monster fell into an abyss, but as it fell forward its whip wrapped around Gandalf's leg, dragging him to the edge.

"Fly you fools!" Gandalf shouted to the Fellowship. A moment later, he, too, fell into the pit. Frodo screamed and ran toward the abyss, but strong arms held him back…

* * *

Pippin cried out in his sleep. Boromir gently took the Halfling in his arms.

"Gandalf is dead!" Pippin cried. "He's dead!"

"It was only a dream, little one."

Pippin wrapped his arms tighter around the man's neck, sobbing. "I saw him, Boromir. He fell into a pit! Frodo and Sam were crying. He's dead!"

"Now, now," Boromir said soothingly. "It has been many days since the Fellowship travelled through the Mines. I am certain Gandalf is safe, and he is now leading the Fellowship to Mordor. Do not worry, Pippin. It was a nightmare, and that is all," he said, holding Pippin tightly until the hobbit settled down.

"It was so real, Boromir."

"Dreams tend to be so," said Boromir. "Are you all right now?"

Pippin nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"The sun will begin to rise in about an hour. You should sleep until then. I will stay here beside you until you fall asleep," Boromir offered.

"I don't think I can sleep anymore."

Boromir nodded. "A hearty breakfast will raise your spirits. I shall cook porridge for you."

"That's all right. I'll make breakfast."

"Are you implying I cannot cook a simple thing as porridge?"

"Yes, a cook you are not," answered Pippin.

After their light breakfast of porridge and bread, Boromir and Pippin finally set out. By midday, dark clouds gathered above threatening showers as the day promised to be hot and muggy.

Pippin kept his word - he had not held back their progress, but it had been hours since they had rested or eaten. The Halfling came to a halt. He watched Boromir disappear over the top of the hill they were climbing. He couldn't go on without a break and he made a decision to demand a respite. The hobbit filled his lungs with air, and then forced his aching legs to follow the Steward's heir.

As Pippin topped the hill, he found Boromir watching something in the distance. When the Halfling finally reached the man's side, Boromir knelt, putting his arm around Pippin's shoulders.

"Look, little one," Boromir whispered, and pointed.

The hills ended and rolling grasslands appeared. Downhill from them, in a field carpeted with yellow daisies, stood the most beautiful creature Pippin had ever seen.


	15. Chapter 15

Pippin gasped as the creature turned to look at them. Boromir crouched beside the Halfling and smiled at the look of wonder on Pippin's face.

"It's the most beautiful horse I have ever seen." Pippin whispered.

"It is not just a horse, Pippin. I trust it is a mearh, the most noble of horses. It is said they live as long as a man, and have remarkable strength and intelligence."

As the mearh stood watching them, a ray of sunshine burst through the clouds and beamed down onto the horse's golden coat. The animal glimmered like a gold nugget on a sunny day. The mearh neighed and pranced around the field with its long shiny mane flowing in the wind.

Boromir sat, resting his arms on his raised knees. He ripped a strand of grass and began chewing on it. Pippin sat beside his hero, and, he, too, ripped a strand of grass and placed it in his mouth.

"I believed the Mearas were only of legend. My father used to speak of them when I was a child," said Boromir smiling. "My brother Faramir would plead for more when the tales ended. At night, as I put him to bed, I would continue where my father left off, inventing stories as I went along," he said, chuckling. "At age five, Faramir vowed he would find a mearh, and then he would win it over and become its master. Whoever thought I would be the first of my family to actually see the legendary creature."

Pippin observed his friend. The look of childish wonder on Boromir's face made the hobbit smile. He imagined the tall man had been a precocious child, with a kind and gentle soul. He felt honored that Boromir had shared a part of his childhood with him.

"Pippin, you said our rescuer was golden in color. I believe it has decided to reveal itself," Boromir said.

"What?" Pippin asked excitedly. "Are you saying that horse saved us?"

Suddenly, as if the mearh had understood their words, it bolted toward them at a full gallop.

Pippin's eyes widened. "Boromir? What's it doing?"

Boromir quickly stood, pushing Pippin behind him as the mearh kept coming in their direction at full speed. Suddenly, the mearh came to an abrupt halt several yards from the man and the hobbit. The magnificent horse snorted and pounded its front hoof on the ground. Boromir relaxed for he knew the gallant horse meant them no harm. The mearh shook its perfect head; and then walked slowly toward the Gondorian. With its head held high, the mearh brought its muzzle over Boromir's head and playfully snorted into his hair. The stallion stood tall; its height was at least 17 hands. The animal's grand mane and tail nearly touched the ground and they were the color of wheat. Its beauty took Boromir's breath away.

Pippin peeked around Boromir's legs. "What's it doing?"

"I am not certain, little one. Perhaps it is waiting for us to make the first move," Boromir said as he brought his hand up to stroke the mearh's neck. The horse stepped back and shook its head as if to say, no.

"What do we do now?" Pippin asked.

Boromir brought his hand down, took Pippin by the shoulders and guided him around to face the exquisite creature. "Put your hand out to it."

"What?" Pippin asked worriedly.

"Trust me, Pippin. It will not harm you."

Pippin slowly put his hand out. The beautiful stallion walked slowly up to the Halfling, gently nibbling his hand, and then his curly head.

Boromir chuckled lightly as Pippin cried out and tried to shoo the mearh away. "Do not be afraid, Pippin, for I believe you have been chosen."

"Chosen? What do you mean?"

"My father's tales told of how the Mearas allowed only the Lord of the Mark or his sons to ride them. So why is it that a mearh unexpectedly comes to our aid, and now appears before us? It is not a coincidence. In addition, the mearh is not allowing me to touch it, but it demonstrates a fondness for you. Therefore, you are its new master, little one."

"Master? Me? You mean...me? But, why me? Why not you? You should be its master! You're the Steward's heir, the captain of Gondor's army, the soldier…the...! "

"Be quiet," Boromir said gently. "No, it is you he wants." He chuckled at the frightened look on Pippin's face. "Stroke its head."

Pippin kept his clenched hands at his side.

"Go on. It will not harm you," Boromir coaxed.

As if the mearh understood, it brought its head down for the hobbit to caress.

Pippin stroked the mearh's cheek, producing a sigh-nicker from the animal.

"I think it likes me," said a giggling Pippin.

"Of course. As I said, you are now its new master."

"So, what does this mean, Boromir?"

"It can only mean the mearh is here to provide us with safe passage to Mordor. Now, Master Pippin, you shall have to name our valiant friend," Boromir said.

Pippin thought for a long moment, different names racing through his mind, and then the perfect name came to him. "I know! I know! I'll name him…Bill!"

A look of shock crossed Boromir's features. "WHAT? Bill? Bill? Pippin, you jest, surely! You want to name this proud and magnificent horse…Bill?"

"What's wrong with Bill? Bill was a very good pony, you know. And besides, I like that name."

Boromir shook his head in disbelief. He looked at the mearh with a pained look, nodded and sighed heavily. "If that is the name you desire, little one, then, Bill it shall have to be."

The twosome had now become a company of three. Once Bill allowed Boromir to place Pippin on his back, the mearh then led the way in the direction of Mordor.

Later, as the day came to an end, the threesome had traveled over thirty miles, stopping only for a brief period during midday before heading out again. By the time Bill decided to stop for the night, Boromir was so weary, it took every ounce of strength to put one foot in front of the other. Pippin felt guilty that he rode the incredible mearh while Boromir had to travel on foot. He hoped Bill would soon trust the soldier and allow the man to ride him.

Pippin set up camp and prepared a small evening meal. Boromir was too exhausted to think about eating, but submitted to the persisting hobbit and ate his food. Meanwhile Bill grazed close by, keeping an eye on his new charges.

"I'll take the first watch," Pippin said.

"No, little one, there is no need. We shall both get a good sleep tonight for Bill will watch over us as he has the last two nights," Boromir said.

Pippin turned to look at the mearh. "He has, hasn't he? We're so lucky to have him with us. You know, Boromir, I feel so guilty that I got to ride Bill today while you had to walk. I'm going to ask him tomorrow if he'll let you ride him too."

The Halfling did not hear a reply from the Gondorian, and knew his companion had fallen asleep.

* * *

The eye pulsated and grew larger. It spoke to Boromir, the voice was deafening, much like a raging wind in his mind. It spoke of Frodo and the ring. Boromir took the ring from the ring-bearer, and with its power he defeated the evil that threatened his beloved land of Gondor. But then suddenly the eye turned on him, enveloping him in its evil.

"No! Stop! Leave me alone! Faramir, help me, brother! HELP ME!" Boromir screamed.

The evil one finally consumed him, destroying what was left of Boromir's soul.

Boromir whimpered and tossed restlessly in his bedroll. "Help me, help me," he said over and over in his sleep. Bill came to his side, watching over the tormented man. The mearh placed its muzzle gently on the man's cheek until Boromir at last settled into a deep peaceful slumber.


	16. Chapter 16

Frodo needed time to be alone. He set off to be by himself. Sam, always the worrier, wanted to come along, but Frodo persuaded his trusted friend that he would not go far and he would be safe.

"Please, Mister Frodo, let me come with you. I'll be quiet. I promise not to say a word."

Frodo touched Sam's shoulder lightly. "No, Sam. I need to be by myself for a while. Please. I won't go far, I promise."

Frodo smiled and left. As Sam watched the troubled hobbit walk off into the night, the gardener felt a man's hand on his shoulder.

"He'll be all right, Sam. He needs time alone to mourn. Now, come sit with us," Aragorn said gently, guiding the hobbit back to the campfire.

Frodo did as he promised and walked up a small hill. He sat cross-legged and could see their camp below. Aragorn, Gimli, Sam and Merry sat around the campfire. Even though he could not see Legolas, he knew the elf was close by.

The hobbit looked up at the night sky; the stars twinkled brightly, just as they had every night over his home. It seemed a lifetime ago since the four hobbits had left their beloved Shire.

Frodo looked down at his cousin Merry. In the days after the cave in, Merry had withdrawn into himself, becoming angry and aloof. It broke his heart to see his cousin in such misery. Frodo felt helpless; there was nothing he could do for Merry. He realized the day that Pippin and Boromir had perished; a part of Merry had died with them. And now, Gandalf, too, was gone, all three lost in the Mines of Moria. How the Fellowship would defeat Sauron without them, he did not know.

The Halfling closed his eyes and filled his lungs with the cool night air. He then made a wish. Soon, he hoped, he would know if his wish would come to pass.

* * *

Faramir had been having nightmares every night since the day he had had the vision of Boromir being buried alive. He knew his brother lived, for he had seen him in his dreams. These horrific dreams had tormented him so, and Faramir had become terrified to go to sleep. The sleepless nights were killing him. He was exhausted to the point of death but he couldn't bring himself to rest for fear he would see the evil one ultimately destroy his beloved brother.

Faramir's body couldn't take the strain any longer. He was feeling quite unwell, but he had to appear before Denethor for he had been summoned by his father.

As Faramir entered Denethor's bedchamber, his father took one look at his youngest son and looked away in disgust.

"What ails you now? You look like death," Denethor said with contempt.

"Nothing ails me," Faramir lied. "Do you have need of me, Father?"

"Yes. You must go to Rivendell and take your brother's place. It is he who should be here with me, not you," Denethor said scornfully.

"Boromir is no longer in Rivendell, Father," Faramir said.

Fear tore into Denethor's heart. "What do you mean he is no longer in Rivendell? Where IS HE?"

Faramir opened his mouth to speak but the words did not come forth. As the room began to spin, he felt his body hit the floor. The Steward's youngest son experienced his father's wrath as Denethor slapped him across the face.

"TELL ME WHERE HE IS!" Denethor screamed at the fallen man.

Suddenly a vision came to Faramir, a vision of his beloved brother smiling down at him. As Boromir reached out to him, Faramir returned the smile, closed his eyes and finally succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

Pippin awoke to find Boromir still asleep, and to his surprise Bill stood over the sleeping man. The hobbit wondered what had caused the mearh to watch over the Gondorian. Could it be their new companion had protected Boromir through the night, if so, protected him from what?

"Good morning, Bill," said Pippin. The hobbit's lips curled up into a smile as the magnificent horse moved toward him, and brought its head down for the Halfling to stroke. "Thank you for watching over us last night."

Bill snorted and nibbled on Pippin's curls causing the hobbit to giggle with glee. The mearh then broke contact and went off to graze.

The wonderful smells of breakfast cooking over a fire brought Boromir out of his deep sleep. To his surprise, he felt refreshed and well rested, but there was something, something which nagged at the back of his mind…a bad dream perhaps. He shook his head to clear the feeling of trepidation and focused on the pleasant smells coming from the fire pit and the smiling face of his little companion.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Pippin said happily.

"Good morning, little one. I trust you have made an ample breakfast, for I am truly famished."

"I thought you'd be. You hardly ate anything last night," Pippin said as he served Boromir a bowl of porridge and a plate of fried potatoes.

A smiled spread across Boromir's face. "I had begun to hate porridge, but this morning, I will eat it with pleasure. Thank you, Pippin."

"You're welcome," the hobbit said. He served himself then sat beside Boromir to eat. Pippin glanced toward Bill and then at his friend. "Boromir?"

"Yes, what is it?" Boromir replied between mouthfuls.

"Did something happen to you last night?"

"Of course not, why do you ask?"

"Bill was watching over you this morning, like he had been taking care of you throughout the night."

Boromir stopped chewing and looked over at the mearh. A chill ran down Boromir's spine for he realized at that moment that Pippin was right, something had happened to him during the night, and Bill had been there to protect him. The mearh had protected him! Boromir now remembered his dream, remembered his battle with Sauron, the battle for his soul. Bill had somehow entered his dream, he had saved him, and he had brought him back from the brink of madness. The reality of this unselfish act was overwhelming, piercing the tough soldier's heart like a sword. Boromir set his plate down and walked over to the beautiful creature grazing several yards away.

"Boromir? What's the matter?" Pippin asked with concern.

Bill raised his head, looking into Boromir's eyes as the man approached. Boromir stood before the magnificent horse, seemingly at a loss for words.

The man of Gondor fought back tears that threatened to spill over. "Thank you," he finally managed to say. "I would have been lost if it had not been for you. I owe you my life."

The Steward's heir brought his hand out to the mearh, and after a long moment, Bill gently nibbled the man's fingers, and then allowed Boromir to embrace his head and stroke his neck.

Pippin gasped, jumped up and down, tripped and fell on his buttocks. He quickly got back on his feet, jumping up and down once again. "He likes you! He likes you!"

Bill had fought with the evil one over the man's soul, and had won, but at what price? He had been touched by evil; his pure heart was now tainted. But the mearh knew the Captain of Gondor's army had been worth the sacrifice. Boromir was a noble man who would make a considerable difference in the battle for Middle-Earth. The mearh knew he had done the right thing; he knew he had made the right choice; and therefore, Bill now carried two toward the land of Mordor.

* * *

The winged creature, mounted by a Ringwraith, soared the sky in search of the One Ring. Once, this Black Rider had nearly captured the Ruling Ring, but it had failed at Weathertop Hill, and at the Ford of Bruinen. And now, this servant of Sauron, searched the landscape below with diligence. The Ringwraith's mission would not come to an end until it had recaptured the Great Ring, and returned the powerful artifact to its master.


	17. Chapter 17

Saruman stood arrogantly on the pinnacle of Orthanc. The old wizard's lips turned up slightly, smiling smugly while he watched a new flock of crebains being released from the pits of Isengard. The large black birds were not to return until they had found the ring-bearer. Once these spies of Saruman found the one who held the Ruling Ring, they were to report back to the wizard. Therefore, the crows would fly for miles on end, and search the earth below for as long as it took, even if it meant they would fly until they dropped dead out of the sky.

* * *

As the company of three, Pippin, Boromir and Bill, traveled toward Mordor, the lush grasslands came to an end, and rocky terrain appeared in the distance. The travelers still held hope of being reunited with the Fellowship, and with the help of the mearh, the companions made excellent headway in their journey toward the Black Land. But, by mid-day, Pippin, as usual, was hungry. He did not want to be a nuisance, but his stomach felt so empty, and all he could think about was eating something…anything.

"Boromir?"

"Yes, Pippin, I know precisely what it is you are going to say," Boromir said, smiling.

"You do?" asked Pippin.

"Of course. Your stomach is a bottomless pit, little one. I know you are hungry, and you want something to eat. Have I guessed correctly?"

Pippin snorted. "You have indeed. Do you think we can stop and eat sometime soon?"

Before Boromir could respond, Bill stopped and turned his head to look at the Halfling.

Pippin swallowed hard, thinking he might have upset the mearh. "Did I say something wrong?" he whispered to Boromir.

The soldier chuckled. "I trust Bill has heard you are hungry, and has stopped so that we may have a meal."

Pippin smiled with relief. "Oh. Thanks, Bill."

As Boromir helped Pippin dismount, Bill sensed a sudden change in the atmosphere. There was such a strong sense of wrongness in the air and in the surroundings. The magnificent horse became restless, snorting and pounding the ground with his front hoof.

Boromir realized something was disturbing the mearh. "What is it, Bill? What troubles you?" he asked as he stroked the horse's neck.

Suddenly, Boromir heard birds cawing in the distance. His heart began to pound against his chest for he and Pippin had encountered these birds before. His head shot upward and to his horror, a black cloud flew in their direction.

The man heard Pippin cry out. "Crebains!"

Boromir quickly placed Pippin onto Bill's back, and then mounted the mearh behind the Halfling. "Go, Bill, go! They must not see us!" he shouted.

* * *

Aragorn led the remaining members of the Fellowship through a forested region. The company was in such low spirits; no words were spoken as Gimli trudged behind their leader, followed by Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Legolas brought up the rear.

A moment later Legolas came to a halt, his keen hearing perceiving a strange sound in the distance. Merry, realizing the elf was no longer behind him, turned to witness the elf listening intently to the stillness around them.

"What is it?" Merry asked the elf.

Legolas did not answer. He quickly laid on the ground, putting his ear to the earth. Merry did not hear the ranger approach, and nearly jumped out of his skin as Aragorn spoke to the elf.

"What is it, Legolas?"

"We are being pursued," Legolas said as he stood.

"Orcs?"

"Yes. The orcs are approaching from two directions, from behind us, and others are coming directly toward us," Legolas said.

"We were walking into a trap," Aragorn said.

"That is correct. There are many, Aragorn, and they are not far."

"Then we shall have to find a way around them," Aragorn said and hurried over to Frodo. "Frodo, there are orcs coming this way. We must find a new way to Mount Doom, and we must do it quickly. Can you keep up?"

Sam and Merry moved closer to Frodo. "Don't worry about us, Aragorn," said Frodo looking at Sam and his cousin, and then back at the ranger. "Just lead the way and we'll be right behind you."

Aragorn gave the Halflings a wan smile and hurried off. The remainder of the Fellowship ran after their leader.

* * *

Faramir lay unconscious in his bed. Denethor paced angrily as he watched the healers attend to his youngest son. The Steward of Gondor was enraged that Faramir had collapsed before telling him the locality of his eldest son. He was worried for Boromir's safety and he was livid that he had permitted his heir to go to Rivendell instead of sending Faramir, and now, Boromir was in danger. How could he have allowed this to happen?

"Wake him up!" Denethor shouted.

"He is very ill," the Warden of the Houses of Healing said. "He is exhausted and is running a high fever."

"I don't care! I want him to tell me where Boromir is! Now wake him up! Do whatever it takes! MAKE HIM TELL ME WHERE MY SON IS!"

"I will do my best," Hurin said and turned back to his patient.

* * *

Bill raced toward the rocks, but it was of no use; they had been seen. The crebains flew past them, then turned around and flew back in the direction in which they had come.

"They've seen us!" Pippin cried.

"Bill, stop! Do not injure yourself, friend," Boromir told the mearh.

Bill slowed down then came to a halt; his body was covered in foamy sweat. The beautiful creature pranced around nervously, waiting for a command from its riders.

"They have gone back to report," Boromir said as he watched the birds disappear in the distance.

"What do we do now?" Pippin asked anxiously.

"I do not know, little one. We have been sighted, and now Sauron knows our destination."

"If he knows where we're going, he'll send orcs to stop us!"

"I trust you are right," Boromir said. "Then we must take a different route. There is no other…" Boromir suddenly stopped in mid-sentence. What he heard next sent chills down his spine.

Pippin trembled with fear. "What is that?" the hobbit asked.

Boromir turned to look behind him. Flying toward them was a Ringwraith astride a giant black creature with featherless wings. The foul creature swooped down and was immediately upon them, thrusting its huge claws into the man's back. Boromir crashed into Pippin, knocking the hobbit off the mearh as he was lifted into the air.


	18. Chapter 18

As Faramir's condition worsened, the Steward of Gondor, in secret, made use of the palantíri, the seeing stone, but he was unable to discover Boromir's location. In the privacy of his room, Denethor paced and shrieked in his frustration. He was furious, inconsolable; and because he had made use of the palantíri stone, which the malice of Sauron had corrupted, the stone had driven him mad. And now, as his insanity excalated, he knew what he must do.

Denethor stormed into Faramir's bedchamber. "WELL? WHAT NEWS DO YOU HAVE FOR ME?" he screamed at Hurin.

"He remains unconscious, my lord," Hurin said softly. "The fever is worse and I fear if your son's health continues to deteriorate, he may not live through the night."

"Then he is of no use to me!" shouted Denethor.

"I do not understand, my lord," Hurin said, concerned.

"Get out!"

Hurin looked at Denethor in shock and stood frozen by Faramir's bed. "Please do not do him harm, my lord," Hurin pleaded with the deranged man standing before him.

"I SAID GET OUT!" Denethor screamed at the healer.

Hurin bowed and reluctantly left the room. Tears streamed down Denethor's face as he went to Faramir and slapped his son across the face. "Boromir is lost to me. Do you hear me, Faramir? My son is lost and you are to blame! You shall die for this!"

The Ruling Steward of Gondor took the candle from the bedside table. "You have betrayed me! You have betrayed your brother! You are a traitor to Gondor and you are no longer my son!" Denethor looked down at the still figure lying on the bed. The father's contempt for his youngest son became so intense it drove him to do the unimaginable. Denethor stood back from the bed before he threw the candle at Faramir's feet.

* * *

Pippin fell from Bill's back with a sickening thud. It took him a moment before he realized what had happened. Dizziness and nausea threatened to make him sick to his stomach. He breathed deeply to get air into his lungs and get the nausea under control. He felt something wet trickle down his face. As he gingerly touched his forehead his fingers came away wet with blood. He did not feel any pain and he did not give his injury another thought. There were more important things to think about.

Where was Boromir? He looked around for his companion but he didn't see the warrior anywhere. Pippin then heard a frightening shriek coming from above. He raised his eyes to the sky, and to his horror, Boromir hung from the winged creature's talons.

"BOROMIR!" Pippin shouted as he quickly got to his feet. The sudden movement made Pippin's head spin. Bill stood still as Pippin steadied himself against his leg.

* * *

The Fellowship stumbled upon an orc scouting party of twenty. Aragorn hacked fiercely with his sword and killed many of the hideous creatures. Legolas cut down several of the beasts with his mighty bow, and with his axe, Gimli fought bravely to protect the Halflings.

"This has to stop!" Frodo shouted to no one in particular. The fear his saw on Sam and Merry's faces nearly brought him to tears. He wouldn't endanger his companions any longer and in that moment, he knew what he had to do. He would set out to Mount Doom on his own. He would destroy the ring; destroy Sauron and the evil he had brought upon Middle Earth. The route they had taken had steered them further away from their destination, but that didn't matter to Frodo, as long as he completed his mission and destroyed the ring in the end.

Frodo turned to Sam and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Sam, stay with Merry. Keep him safe."

"Where are you going, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, concerned.

"I have to go to Mount Doom…I have to go there on my own. Too many have died because of me and I won't sacrifice any more lives!" Frodo said.

"Mr. Frodo, please! Let me come with you!" Sam pleaded.

"No, Sam. You must stay here and protect Merry and the others. Do you understand?"

Tears began to well up in Sam's eyes. "But, you can't go on your own, you should wait…"

Frodo would not argue with his faithful servant, and as Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli fought the orcs, he ran off on his own.

"Where is he going?" Merry asked Sam.

"He's going to Mount Doom…by himself! We can't let him go there alone, Merry!" Sam said, crying.

Merry looked at the battle taking place behind him. "Come on, then!" Merry said. Grabbing Sam by the arm, the two hobbits followed the ring-bearer to the Fire-Mountain of Orodruin.

* * *

Boromir felt a stabbing pain as he was violently lifted into the air. The fetid black creature's sharp talons had gone all the way through his shoulders. He was unable to reach his sword and he beat at the winged creature's claws with his bare hands. His face was splattered with his own blood as the featherless bat-like wings flapped powerfully through the air.

The Ringwraith shrieked once again in frustration for the black mount had seized the wrong target. The Nazûl ordered the flying creature to release the man. Boromir fell out of the sky and slammed into the ground, shattering his legs.


	19. Epilogue

Merry and Sam called out to Frodo as they ran after the ring-bearer. Frodo looked behind him and stopped.

"What are you doing here?" Frodo shouted angrily.

"We couldn't let you go to Mount Doom by yourself, so stop shouting!" Merry said.

"I can't let you come with me!" Frodo said harshly.

"Well, you can't stop us from following you," Merry said as he walked up to Frodo. It was then they heard footsteps running toward them and were thankful it was Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli and not the orc scouting party.

Frodo's head dropped to his chest as his shoulders sagged. He realized his plans to go to Mount Doom on his own had come to an end. He sat on a rock and placed his head in his hands.

Aragorn knelt before the ring-bearer. "What were you thinking?" he asked Frodo gently.

"I didn't want to see anyone else hurt because of me," Frodo said as tears rolled down his face.

"We shall do this together or not at all," Aragorn said. After a long moment Frodo finally nodded.

Knowing they were safe for the time being, Aragorn allowed the company to rest. Frodo sat apart from the others, but not for long for Merry and Sam came to sit beside him. The younger hobbits needed to be close to the older and wiser hobbit.

"This is madness," Merry said crossing his arms. "How we will ever reach Mount Doom without being killed, I'll never know."

Frodo laid his hand on his cousin's shoulder. "We must stand fast, Merry, and believe we will succeed."

As Merry was about to respond, a strange feeling came over him, making him dizzy and nauseous. He closed his eyes and gasped.

"What is it, Merry?" Frodo asked, concerned.

Merry shook his head to clear the image that had assaulted his mind. "I don't know. I don't feel very well."

As he closed his eyes to collect himself, another image instantly came to him. In his vision, he saw Pippin on the ground, and above him flew a large black creature. Merry felt like the wind had been sucked out of his lungs. His eyes shot open. "It's Pippin!" he shouted.

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked.

"I don't know what's happening, Frodo, but I just saw Pippin. He's alive! And something huge and ugly is after him!"

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli suddenly appeared beside the hobbits.

"Frodo, what's wrong?" asked Aragorn.

"I'm not sure. Merry has had a vision. He says Pippin is alive."

"That is folly," Gimli addressed Aragorn. "He perished in Moria. Obviously, Merry is overly weary, and it has caused him to see this, this...mirage."

Merry became angry. "I tell you I've seen him!" He grabbed a hold of Frodo's hand. Frodo stiffened as if he had been struck by lightning, then he too saw Pippin fleeing from the fetid creature.

Frodo opened his eyes and looked at the Ranger. "Aragorn, I too have seen. We have to help him!"

* * *

Pippin had seen where Boromir had fallen. He ran toward his companion as fast as his legs would carry him. But as he ran, he heard a loud scream coming from above. Pippin looked up to see, soaring high above him, the bat-like creature as it swooped down to snatch him. He dropped to the ground and lay as flat as he could. The creature flew past him, its clawed feet missing their mark once again. The Ringwraith became enraged and in his anger beat the black creature over the head with his fist.

Boromir lay on the ground on his back, bleeding and broken. He regained consciousness and discovered he could not move his legs. Instinctively his looked for Pippin, couldn't see him anywhere and feared the Nazûl had finally captured the hobbit.

"Pippin! Pippin!" Boromir called out as he managed to take his sword out of its scabbard. He rolled on to his stomach and caught sight of Bill. The Steward's heir pulled himself toward the mearh but he didn't get very far. Bleeding profusely from his wounds, Boromir knew he was dying.

Bill raced over to Pippin, and stood over the hobbit, protecting him from the danger above. The winged creature attacked, its talons tore deeply into Bill's withers. The mearh roared in agony, but the horse did not budge.

Pippin lay underneath the beautiful horse, vulnerable and helpless. The Halfling heard the Ringwraith shriek as the black mount swooped down toward them. Yet again, the horse stood its ground only to have its back and hindquarters ripped open.

All the pain and suffering Pippin had endured in the past few weeks were proving to be too much for him. He curled into a fetal position and burst into tears. This had to stop! Please! He had made a huge mistake coming with Frodo! He just wanted to go home!

Bill screamed in agony as the winged creature attacked once again. Pippin covered his ears for he could not stand to hear his protector, his newfound friend, being torn apart. Eventually Bill collapsed beside the hobbit. Once the mearh had been a beautiful creature, but now it lay crippled in a pool of blood.

"BILL!" cried Pippin as he reached out to the mearh. "NO! NO!"

Pippin wrapped his arm around Bill's head. The mearh watched the hobbit with its large expressive eyes as it struggled to stay alive, and after a moment Bill shuddered and took his last breath.

"I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" Pippin screamed.

As the Ringwraith bore down on the hobbit, an arrow struck its flying mount in the neck. Another two arrows quickly followed suit. The winged creature screamed in pain and withdrew.

"Pippin!" Merry shouted as he ran toward his cousin. "Pippin!"

Pippin's reaction was to bury his face deeper into Bill's soft neck. He heard Merry calling his name, but it could not be his cousin! He knew then that he had gone mad!

"_Wake __up, __little __one...Pippin? __Pippin, __wake __up. __Come __on, __wake __up!"_

* * *

Pippin opened his eyes to see his cousin Merry watching him with concern. Merry turned to the others behind him. "He's awake!"

The young Halfling looked around, and to his shock he was back in the Mines of Moria. The Fellowship gathered around him, relief clearly seen on their faces.

"I didn't think you'd ever wake up!" Merry exclaimed as he squeezed his cousin's shoulder.

"What happened?" Pippin asked.

"You fell into a hole. Don't you remember?"

"Welcome back, sweet Pippin," Frodo said, his eyes glimmering with tears. "I made a wish earlier, and now you have made it come true."

"I don't understand. Boromir and I fell, and there was a cave in. We were separated from you."

"You and Boromir did fall into a deadfall. He was uninjured, but you received a bump on your head. You have been unconscious for several hours," Gandalf said gently.

Pippin gasped. "Gandalf? You're alive?"

"Fool of a Took," Gandalf said with delight. "Of course, I'm alive."

"But, I saw you fall into a pit," Pippin insisted.

"It was only a dream, sweet boy," Gandalf said patting Pippin's face lightly. "You had us worried, you know," he said and smiled. "Welcome back."

Boromir's face came into view. "Greetings, little one. I trust you are feeling well?"

Pippin burst into tears. "Boromir," he said reaching out to the man.

The warrior took Pippin in his arms. "Now, now," Boromir said holding the hobbit until the sobbing subsided.

"You were in my dream, Boromir. We were separated from the others. We experienced so much, and you were always protecting me from danger, and…"

"And?" Boromir asked.

"And I saw your father and your brother Faramir. Your father…" Pippin could not tell Boromir what he had seen his father do to his younger brother.

"What did you see, little one?" Boromir asked anxiously.

"He wasn't very nice to Faramir," Pippin finally said.

"Yes, that would be as it is for my beloved brother," Boromir said quietly. "What else did your dream reveal?"

"I…I..." Pippin could no longer continue.

"What? Go on, tell me," Boromir said.

"You died."

Boromir chuckled lightly. "Then I am delighted it was only a dream." The Steward's heir cleared his throat, his voice turning decidedly serious. "Know this, little one," he said sincerely. "I will always be there to protect you, even if it means my death. Always."

Pippin looked into the man's green eyes, and knew Boromir would indeed die for him, or any of the other members of the Fellowship. Certainly this man was a true friend to all in the Company of the Ring.

It was difficult at first to believe the entire journey with Boromir had only been a dream. It had all seemed so real. Pippin was going to miss the people and the creatures he had encountered in his dream, especially Bill. But a part of him was relieved that the mearh's gruesome death had only been a fragment of his vivid imagination.

Pippin was back with his companions ready to continue the journey toward Mordor. A journey that had certainly proven to be perilous, but as long as he and his fellow hobbits had someone like Boromir to protect them, the Fellowship would succeed in their quest to destroy the One Ring and save Middle-Earth.

**THE END**


End file.
